


The Girl With the Dragon Tail Piercing

by DannyCreasy



Category: Carol (2015), The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (2011), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Carol (2015) Fusion, Corruption, F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 54,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29058459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyCreasy/pseuds/DannyCreasy
Summary: In December of 1983, two emotionally bruised women ignore barriers of age and class to expose corruption. Romantically, lightning strikes. Can they make their love work?
Relationships: Abby Gerhard & Erica Berger, Carol Aird & Rindy Aird, Carol Aird & Therese Belivet, Carol Aird/Harge Aird, Carol Aird/Therese Belivet, Carol Aird/Therese Belivet/Abby Gerhard, Therese Belivet & Miriam Wu, Therese Belivet/Dannie McElroy, Therese Belivet/Genevieve Cranell, Therese Belivet/Phil McElroy, Therese Belivet/Richard Semco
Comments: 188
Kudos: 66





	1. Eye Contact

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://imgur.com/cwmaM0b)

Carol Aird left Snider’s in a drunken stupor. She shivered when the December wind raced up her knee-length skirt. Carol pulled the wrap coat tight and knotted its belt.

She paused a moment to remember where she had parked. The investigative journalist got her bearings then headed north on Court Street. Carol wondered what she would do when she arrived at her 1975 Bronco; _Carol, just crawl in the back and sleep_. She knew all the local cops, and they knew her grimy white-topped sky blue 4X4 only too well. She glanced at the clock over the corner pharmacy’s entrance and saw that it was almost midnight. _Sleep a few hours, then drive home._

As a shiny Olds 98 slowed to Carol's left, a lean, mid-thirties ash-blonde wearing an Adidas jogging suit hopped out from the passenger side and hurried to Carol’s side. The woman took Carol's arm.

Carol turned to see who this spirit of the night was. “Oh, Abby! What the fuck, Boss?”

“Carol, Ruby called me from Snider’s. Is that POS of yours in the deck?”

“Fuck you, Abby Dabby Doo. Bronkie is a classic.”

“You are not driving like this.”

“Thank you very much, but I’ll have you know I had no intention of driving in my present inebriated state. You just run along, little Dabby Doo, I don’t need you.”

Carol cackled, losing her balance and easing to her knees. “That rhymes! Ain’t that the worst, old girl?”

“Old girl! Fuck you, Carol Aird. I should just leave you here on the sidewalk in front of—” Abby glanced at the nearest storefront “—in front of Sullivan’s and go back to my warm bed.”

“Abby, take me to your ‘warm bed.’ Please. That sounds great! Don’t leave me in front of this place; Daddy bought his goddam Dickies here for fifty years. I always hated this caveman clothing store.”

“C’mon Carol stand up, Sweetie; we will take you home. You can get your Bronco tomorrow. It will be a Saturday.”

Carol strained to see who was driving Abby’s Olds. “Who are we?”

“Jeanette Harrison.”

“Oh! I like Jeanette.”

“Yeah, yeah; everybody loves Jeanette. Now come on.”

“Is Janette going to be in your warm bed, Abby?”

“For Christ’s sake, Carol! I’m glad nobody is in earshot. But, no, Jeanette and Cy were over watching a VHS with Momma, Daddy, and me. I had gone to bed, but the rest were having a last drink and talking. That's when Ruby called.” Abby shrugged and shook her head. “Why in the hell am I explaining that to you? You won’t remember jack shit tomorrow.”

Carol slowly stood, saying, “Abby, don’t be mean. I’ll remember.”

From the car, Jeanette asked, “Abby, do you need help?”

“No, darling. She’s up now and moving.”

A wisp of a girl stepped from the shadows and picked up something near where Carol had collapsed. She stepped up to Abby and said, “Hey, lady. Your friend dropped this.”

Both Carol and Abby turned in shock. They were taken aback by the bizarre appearance of the black-clad figure. The streetlight glinted off a fierce piercing through the girl’s right eyebrow. Abby managed to pull her eyes away from the sprite’s dark eye shadow and black lipstick long enough to glance at the object being returned. Abby would have recognized her lifelong friend’s beloved wallet from a mile away.

Abby took it from the young woman and murmured, “Thank you.”

Carol stared at her Samaritan; the paint and piercings did not hide the young woman’s exquisite cheeks, jawline, and eyes. Sobered by the moment, Carol asked, “Let me reward you. Abby, take a—”

“Don’t worry about it, lady.”

“A male voice from the corner called, “Therese! You coming?”

“Therese broke her gaze from Carol’s eyes, spun then darted away, a cat in the night.”

Carol wondered aloud, "Therese?"

Abby replied, "That's what I heard."

What was that in her eyebrow, Abby?

I'll be damned if it wasn't a white-gold dragon's tail.


	2. Carol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/soQY7U0)  
>  1975 Ford Bronco

_Don’t worry about it, lady!_

The magnetic visage of the girl from the night vanished in a flash as Carol’s eyes opened to the bare oak tree limbs outside her bedroom windows. The branches ran across the expanse of all three windows. A blue sky set them off like a metro route diagram. She moaned with her mild hangover then glanced at her bedside clock. Only clarifying the first two digits, Carol muttered, “Eleven? Goddam, half the fucking day is gone.”

Her dog, a fifty-pound blue tick hound mix, stretched and tapped her woman’s cheek with a wet, cold nose. “I love you, too, Patty.” The dog yawned, which concluded with a sound resembling the screen door’s hinges on Carol’s back porch. She chuckled at the cute finish then scruffled Patty’s velvety head. Carol looked for her slippers but opted instead for a thick pair of woolen socks that had moccasin-like soles.

Carol shuffled to the bathroom then dropped her pajamas and panties to her ankles. She plopped down on the toilet with a sigh. Carol was not sure how long she daydreamed on the potty. Patty, who probably had just as anxious a bladder, nudged Carol’s hand from her knee to break the fuzzy trance.

Downstairs, Carol opened the back door and emerged to discover an unusually mild temperature accompanied by only the slightest of breezes. Patty led her woman around the yard. Carol was a bit perturbed by the dog’s lingering to study every mesmerizingly aromatic piece of vegetation occupying the peripheral of their eclectic back yard. Carol took a deep breath and stared straight up into the sky while stretching her arms out wide. She closed her eyes; the image of the girl came back. Carol opened them and shifted her gaze to Patty. “That’s okay, Patty Melt, you take your time reading your paper.”

After returning to her kitchen, Carol shook some dry dog food in Patty’s bowl then filled the hound’s water bowl. Mrs. Aird fired up Mr. Coffee and smiled when the dripping sound started. She filled her favorite bowl with Total then splashed it with milk. Given last night’s excess, Carol was surprised by her appetite. Unlike the morning before, or the morning before that, she had an expectation of possibilities. _Why?_

The lonely and horny, thirty-four-year-old blonde knew why. It was that girl. Yes, it was that dark elf lingering in the shadows of Carol’s libido.

Carol stepped on her front porch to fetch the morning paper. _Hmm, Saturday, December 17, 1983._ She had to flip to page two to gaze at her article, a puff piece. She had interviewed yet another over-the-hill rock-and-roller who decided to retire to Sally, Alabama, for adulation before inevitably passing away too young. Another creative flame fueled by drugs, booze, and sex. A fire that burned too brightly and would snuff out in a haze of spotlight memories. Carol didn’t read it. She knew every word by heart.

She returned to her living room and turned on _MTV_. She hit the mute button. Carol stared at the front page and read but did not comprehend. She thought of the night before and how she had mistreated Abby Gerhard. Abby, her best friend and former lover had come to Carol’s rescue once again. Abby, the editor of the very newspaper Carol now worked for, had given Carol a writing job when few would. She must call her and apologize. Carol could always make Abby laugh, and a laughing Abby was a forgiving one.

Carol tapped her fresh box of Virginia Slims then slipped her manicured nail into the plastic wrapping. She withdrew one of the 120mm rods and lit her first cigarette of the day. Carol inhaled, she reminisced. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen,_ Carol thought. The unpacked plaques and framed certificates in her den attested to a different life. Carol Aird was a journalistic firecracker throughout the 70s. She left a string of heartbroken editors from Philly to St. Louis as she bounced from one “better” offer to the next.

Her husband, Hargess Aird, selflessly followed and encouraged her; he dropped and acquired banking jobs with ease. In 1975, their daughter, Rindy, was born — proof positive that “the pill” was not bulletproof. The “accident” proved to be the greatest gift the couple ever gave one another. They adored the child. But their marriage was flawed, Carol could orgasm with a man as one might a dildo, but her sexual preference had been and always would be for those of her own gender.

Carol’s first sexual encounter was with Abby at age fifteen. How their carnal shenanigans in high school remained a secret is a wonder. They graduated in 1967. A month earlier, the two pulled off their most memorable stunt to date. Two brawny footballers thought they had sure things for prom night, but Carol and Abby had other plans. The young men sprang for adjoining rooms at Sally’s finest lodging. After leaving the dance and arriving at their hotel, the pair of “foxes” partied the big boys into alcohol-induced unconsciousness. They left the guys snoring on the beds in one room while Carol and Abby fucked each other to screaming bliss next door.

The idealistic girlfriends set out to change the world that fall; they majored in journalism at the University of Alabama. Never monogamous, they discretely banged a string of coeds over the next four years. For long weekends and breaks, Abby and Carol always traveled home together to see their parents. They would invariably pull off on some dirt road to make out in a piney wood or deserted farm. They loved each other but never believed they could handle a binding relationship.

Abby never made love to a man, but Carol tried a few. Carol truly fell in love with a handsome young finance major from Memphis. It wasn’t about the sex; it was about Harge being the funniest, classiest, and finest man she had ever met. In a senior-year argument with Abby, Carol crushed and angered her friend when she cried, “I just want to be normal!”

Carol and Harge married after graduation in 1971. Abby never approved of the union and refused to attend the wedding. Abby went straight on to earn her master’s degree at Northwestern.

Carol lucked up when her favorite professor decided to leave academia, taking the helm of a big east coast paper. He invited the plucky graduate to come work for him. Brash but talented, Carol sprinted up the ladder. In 1973, she cajoled a source into exposing a Philadelphia bank’s money laundering scheme. Her prose was topnotch. Important heads rolled, and people went to prison. Carol was noticed.

Carol and Abby never quit communicating. They called and wrote to each other devotedly. One was always there for the other when either needed “to talk.” Abby was a rising star at the _Washington Post_.

Cleveland, Chicago, and St. Louis came next. On a sweltering August day in 1979, Harge came home a day early from a banking conference. He knew Rindy was spending the week with his parents in Memphis. He walked into their St. Louis residence with flowers and wine to surprise his hardworking wife. Unfortunately, Carol was working hard bringing a redheaded coed to orgasm in their bed.

Harge had suspected Carol’s true predilection. Something was always missing. This discovery confirmed everything. They divorced. It was amicable with a well thought out joint-custody agreement. Neither wanted any of the other’s money. They sold their house and put the equity in a college fund for Rindy.

On Thursday, December 16th of that same year. Carol and Harge rendezvoused at a Shoney’s to eat, chat, and transfer their daughter from Carol to Harge’s care for the weekend. Carol was thrilled; she felt like Harge had forgiven her. After securing, Rindy in his beloved Datsun 280Z, he stepped to the back where Carol lingered. She spontaneously hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “Harge, thank you for being such a good person. Rindy is blessed to have you for a father.”

Harge was at a loss for words. He hugged her back, nodded, then murmured, “Get out of this icy rain, silly; I’ll see you on Sunday evening.”

The roads were fine, but the water on the St. Louis bridges and overpasses always froze first. Harge and Rindy were killed instantly when the Japanese sports car slid into a railing and flipped three times.

Abby flew from D.C. the next day. She stood by her shattered friend through the funeral and a few days afterward. Abby boarded her return flight with a sense of foreboding for her lifelong chum.

Carol lost her drive. She no longer took any thrill in the chase of a pithy story. She turned to drink. Her editor was forced to confront her about growing evidence of her drinking in the day. She was insulted and angrily quit.

She took a job at a lesser paper in Memphis. Her decline continued; Carol was fired again in September of 1981. Carol’s father had passed away in 1978, and her mother died in 1980. She had no siblings, aunts, or uncles. Carol’s calls to her numerous industry contacts were not being returned. She languished in unemployment, booze, and depression.

If ever there was a devoted daughter, it was Abby Gerhard. In 1980, Abby’s father suffered a stroke, and her mother was struggling. Abby shocked the _Post_ when she resigned and accepted a position as editor of her hometown paper. Abby did not look back. A kickass multitasker, Abby moved in with her parents and stabilized their life. Within a year, she had reversed the declining reputation and circulation of the _Sally Star-Herald._ The paper was no rag; it was the largest in its SMSA of 150,000 people.

Abby took a week's vacation in November of 1981 to drive to Memphis, help Carol pack, and move to Sally. The following Monday, Abby showed Carol her desk at the _Star-Herald_. Abby had laid down the law to Carol. Carol well understood this was her last chance.

Carol had never had the heart to sell her parent’s Sally residence. It was a Victorian frame two-story located a half-mile from downtown. Built in 1898, it was a North Sally landmark. She had been renting it to a young married couple. They had moved out two months earlier with the husband’s job transfer. The young couple only used four of its eight rooms. The house was in need of extensive repair, but its structure was sound, and best of all, it was mortgage-free.

The local kids rumored that the ominous dwelling was haunted. Carol encouraged the myth; she felt it kept the nosy kids and prowlers away. She became Miss Handywoman, tackling deep cleaning, basic carpentry, and painting projects with aplomb. Carol had only recently started working on her yard.

At work, Carol kept it boringly simple. She took the assignments given her and attacked them vigorously. They were completed on time, and the locals began to look anxiously for her well-written articles that appeared several days a week. Abby tried to get Carol to join AA, but Carol seemed to have found a balance. She never received a DUI and never overdid it at the business functions or the few parties she attended.

Abby knew that the 16th of December 1983 would be a tough one for Carol, but Abby had been tied up in court all day with a frivolous lawsuit. Abby got out of the court late in the afternoon and raced to work only to find that Carol had turned in her latest piece at four and left for the day. Abby went home for dinner and a movie with her parents and the Harrisons. Trying to keep Carol’s mind occupied, Abby had wanted to talk Carol into joining them. Abby cruised by Carol’s house and saw that her Ford Bronco was not there. The friend went home reluctantly. Abby’s mother answered the phone late that night when Ruby Robichek called from Snider’s Bar. Jeanette drove Abby to find Carol.

Carol rubbed out the end of her second cigarette as she emerged from her thoughts. She smiled, reading the words on the ancient ashtray, _1907 Jamestown Exposition, Hampton Roads, Virginia_. Carol arose and went to get cleaned up. The heavy-footed Patty plodded up the 19 stairs behind her woman. Carol took her time. She soaked for a half-hour in the old porcelain tub then shaved her alabaster legs and underarms. She stood, closed the curtain, and shampooed her blonde hair. After rinsing off, Carol stepped out and toweled off. She blew her hair dry and quickly styled it. Carol loved her latest cut with its blunt bangs and shoulder length. A couple of minutes with a hot-comb curled the do in at the bottom.

The afternoon was lovely; she put on jeans and an oxford. Her favorite leather jacket was the perfect solution. Her New Balance running shoes felt like heaven compared to the heels and pumps she had worn all week. Patty barked once through the large front window to say goodbye to her woman as Carol locked the door and headed south. Carol walked downtown and was relieved to find Bronkie exactly where she had left him. She exited the deck, bought a mixed cut-flower arrangement from Katie’s Modern Florist, and headed to Abby’s.

Abby met her at the door; she had recognized the sound of Bronkie’s engine.

“Abby, I’m sorry about last night. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Carol, I just tried to call you. I’ll be on your machine when you get back. Anyway, don’t worry about it, Sweetie. I’m as much to blame as you. I should have told that judge to fuck off. I knew what day it was, Carol. I’m sorry.”

They laughed at one another and hugged. Abby’s eyes glistened at the sight of the flowers.

“These are for you and your folks.”

“You shouldn’t have. Here, come in and show them to Momma and Daddy; they’re in the sunroom.”

Mrs. Gerhard stood and gasped, “Oh, Carol, what a pleasant surprise. Are you alright, dear?”

“I’m fine, Delores.”

Abby proclaimed, “She brought us flowers, Momma! Aren’t they lovely?”

“They are, indeed. Carol, thank you so much. Here let's make them the centerpiece out here.” Delores shifted some magazines and books to clear the center of the glass table.

Carol placed the vase and rotated it until Delores winked and nodded.

Carol went to Rodney Gerhard’s side and knelt to hug him. “And how’s Mr. Rod on this gorgeous day.”

His eyes lit up as he smiled at Carol. Rod gave a slow nod and managed two words, “Fine. You?”

“I’m wonderful, Rod. Did I ever tell you what a wonderful person your daughter is?”

Abby tapped Carol’s shoulder and sighed, “Oh, Carol.”

“No, it’s true. But what would we expect being raised by two fine parents like y’all.”

Abby cackled. “Momma, she’s back. That is the first time I’ve heard her say “y’all” since she returned to Sally.”

Carol blushed, remembering how hard she had worked to lose the North Alabama phrases and twang in the string of northern and mid-western cities.

Delores chimed, “Carol, you must stay for dinner. I’m making eggplant parmesan.”

Carol glanced at Abby.

Abby teased, “C’mon, Goose, you know it’s your favorite.”

Carol replied, “Okay, then, Duck. I’d be glad to join ‘y’all’!”

Delores chided, “Oh, you two, and those horrible old grade school nicknames.”

Carol and Abby grimaced at one another then chuckled.

As she handed Carol a magazine, Delores directed, “Carol, you finish reading this _Southern Living_ article to Rod. Abby, come slice these eggplants.”

In unison, the pair answered, “Yes, Ma’am!”

Rod managed a chortle.


	3. Therese

As Carol read to Mr. Gerhard, across town, Therese Belivet stirred from her dreaming. The western sun glowed through her tattered curtains. Miriam Wu slept away at her side. Neither wore a stitch of clothing. Miriam was asleep on her side, leaving a gorgeous back facing Therese. The bed was a queen-sized box spring and mattress resting on the floor in the center of the small bedroom. The only other piece of furniture was a chair.

Several months earlier, Therese happened by a nearby financial institution that was taking advantage of the nonbanking day to redecorate. A crew was loading all of the establishment’s old furniture on a truck. The 1950 era lobby and office furniture caught her eye. Therese gave one of the workers five bucks to let her snag one of the Swedish Modern chairs from the lift. Made of ash with a scantly padded back and seat, one might call the chair minimalist. The perfectly intact brown upholstery was Naugahydeish and virtually indestructible, thus appealing to Therese.

The McElroy brothers occupied the other two bedrooms of “The Triad’s” East Sally rental house. Their 1300 square foot dwelling also had a living room, kitchen, laundry closet, and a bathroom. The single bathroom was the only point of contention amongst the three friends. Therese laid claim to the house’s small but dry cellar. The boys gladly surrendered to her need of a dark room for her photography.

Therese and Miriam had been too wasted to make love after they stripped then collapsed on the bed at dawn. They had pulled Therese’s mountain of sheets and blankets over them, cuddled up, and passed out. Therese, enthralled by the toned figure to her left, was tempted to initiate wake-up sex by caressing, kissing, and nibbling on her “karate girl.” The urge was thwarted by the sound of Dannie McElroy arguing with a female; she was probably the teenybopper he picked up at Johnny B’s last night. Therese had to confess the five-nine drink of water was fine; she only hoped the girl was not lying about her stated age of “eighteen.”

Therese left Miriam snoozing. She stood, stretched, and yawned; the excess blood oxygen accumulated with her aborted sexual arousal had to go somewhere. Therese pulled panties, sweat pants, and a hoodie from her “clean” laundry basket, then grabbed her towel from its hook on the back of her door. She slipped out and down the hall to the surprisingly unoccupied bathroom.

Therese moaned as the hot water enveloped her ivory-hued, bantam frame. She had completed shampooing and was in the middle of rinsing her hair when a female voice sounded from the bathroom door. “Honey, do you mind if I go tinkle. I’m hurtin’, girl!”

“C’mon in, but if you flush, there’ll be hell to pay!”

“Thanks.”

“Uh-huh.”

Therese heard the clank of the toilet seat, followed by, “I can’t remember your name. It was something weird. Uh, don’t tell me.”

Therese finished rinsing, grimacing as her sister occupant’s ditsy gears turned. “Teresa? That’s it, right?”

“Wrong.”

“Shit! Was I close? I’m Angie, by the way.”

Now, the girl sounded sweeter than nosier. Therese took pity. “Angie, it's spelled T-H-E-R-E-S-E, but the “H” is silent. Sound out the “S” like a “Z.”

Therese laughed when Angie pronounced “Therese” correctly.

“What? Is that still wrong?”

“No, sweetheart! You got it right!”

Angie clapped while singing a soft, sexy “Yaaay!”

Therese couldn’t resist; she peeked out of the shower curtain. Therese's eyes caught the baby blue panties stretched around Angie’s calves. Then her gaze meandered up the athletic thighs to the blonde bush, and, _oh, my,_ the sumptuous breasts. Angie had turned to locate the toilet paper roll, and Therese managed to pull back before being spotted.

“Hey, were you looking at me?”

Therese winced, “I guess.”

“Dannie says you're a lesbian.”

“Guilty.”

“Well, then; what did you think?”

Therese snickered, “I’d do ya.”

“Hell, yeah, you would, Therese.”

“Angie?”

“Yep.”

“Were you a cheerleader?”

“How did you know?”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“Well, I’m proud of it. Sometimes it was stupid, but I had fun.”

As Therese soaped up her body, she clarified, “I’m not judging you, Angie.”

“You are, too, but I don’t care. I think I like you, Therese.”

“I think I like you, too.”

“That’s awesome, but don’t try to fuck me.”

Therese was taken aback. She paused, contemplating a response. Then she heard Angie add, “Yet.”

Therese heard Angie lower the toilet seat. Angie chimed, “Don’t worry, Tiny Therese, I won’t flush.”

“Thanks. Uh?”

“Yes?”

Therese hesitantly pulled back the edge of the curtain and whispered to Angie, “What were you and Dannie fussing about? Are you okay?”

“Oh, that. Sorry, we were that loud. Yes, I’m fine, but I’m not so sure about your boy. He is looking for something more from me. You know, like he wants to start dating.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Do you, Therese? I mean, I can tell you, and these two guys are like family. You love those goofballs. Dannie said y'all call yourselves the Triad.”

Therese gazed at the wise and perceptive blonde respectfully.

“You see, Therese, I’m a freshman at Sally State, and I don’t want to be tied down. This bitch is going to explore life before locking herself down.”

“In that case, more power to you, Amazon Angie.”

“Touché!”

Therese smiled and started to close the curtain. Angie reached and grasped the hand in which Therese clenched the curtain, then blurted in a whisper, “How old are you, Therese?”

The usually obsessively private Therese spontaneously answered, “Twenty.”

Angie shook her head and uttered, “Holy shit! You look thirteen.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I bet. Sorry, people say I’m too brash.”

“Maybe, but it suits you.”

Angie must have been caught up in the moment. She shifted her hand from the curtain to tenderly grasp Therese’s chin with her long thumb and fingers curving up and around Therese’s irresistible mouth. Angie leaned down to kiss Therese. The kiss lingered, and their tongues caressed for a few seconds.

“I always wanted to kiss a woman. You're my first, Therese.”

“Well, I would have never known. You’re good at it.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah.”

Angie released Therese’s face. Therese’s head dizzied a bit.”

Angie was gone.

Therese returned to her steamy rain. As she rinsed the soap from her body, she complained gutturally, “Goddam, twice in a half-an-hour. Poor little pussy.”

Therese finished her shower, toweled off, and blew her jet-black faux hawk dry. She exited and carried her towel to the bedroom. Deciding the better of it, Therese chose to hang the towel on her doorknob rather than disturb Miriam. She went to the kitchen to find Phil sitting at their four chaired chrome and vinyl table. He was eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch.

Phil glanced up, “Hey, Rez.”

Therese had already noticed that Dannie’s room was empty. “Hi, Phil. Did Dannie take Angie home?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your gal, uh …?

“Rhonda.”

“Yeah. Rhonda.”

“I took her home this morning right after we …”

“Oh, no. What? About seven or eight?”

“Seven-thirty. She had to be at work by nine. I took her home to shower and change.”

“Where does she work?”

“Sears.”

“Oh?”

“She’s in the clothing department. I hope she doesn’t fall asleep at her station.”

“I’m glad she has a job, but I’m sorry she had to leave so soon.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“How’s the “Cap’n?”

Phil chuckled, “He’s fuckin’ great. You wanna bowl?”

“Fuck yeah!”

Therese filled what used to be a jelly jar with orange juice and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. She plopped down across from Phil. Phil filled her bowl and pushed the jug of milk to her side of the table.

As they both munched away on their sugary goodness, Phil read the back of the cereal box while Therese fantasized about a threesome with Miriam and Angie. She forced herself to think about such things, anything to fill the silences. She hated silence and being alone. If she found herself alone, she had to find something to work on, a crossword puzzle, Armansky’s latest “assignment,” or the coffee can of undeveloped rolls down in her darkroom, anything to keep Bodine out of her head.

“Therese, I’m thinking about getting a dragon’s tail like yours.”

“Don’t be a doof. They’ve already warned you at work about the earring and the nose ring.”

“Aw, fuck ‘em.”

“Phil! I’m telling you. Don’t do it!”

“You’re one to talk. Geez, have you looked in a mirror lately?”

Therese usually drank the tan milk at the bottom, but Phil’s retort was too much. She dropped her spoon in the bowl, sending droplets raining across the table.

Phil realized he had hurt her. “Look, Rez. I’m sorry.”

She glared at him, shoved back from the table, and darted to the cellar door.

Phil tried to catch up to her. “I’m sorry, Therese.” By the time he reached the cellar door, Therese had disappeared down the steep wooden stairs. He knew Miriam was still sleeping; as loudly as he dared, Phil called, “Therese, I’m sorry. I won’t get the eyebrow piercing. I promise. Please forgive me.”

He slumped onto the top step and perched dejectedly. Phil’s heartache dissipated after he heard Therese softly speak. The words seemed to echo up from her hole. “It’s okay, Phil. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I love you, Phil.”

“I love you, too, Rez.”

“Now, go away and let me work.”

“Okay.”

“And, close the door.”


	4. Armansky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/aYCyuGn)  
>  Sweet!

Dragan Armansky arrived at his office on Monday, December 17, 1983, sharply at half-past eight. A fastidious creature of habit, his staff, would have called the police if he showed up late. His secretary, Connie Clark, brought his coffee and the day’s copy of the _Sally Star-Herald_. He glanced at the to-do list jotted down on Friday at four. A weekend phone call took care of one item, so he crossed it off with the satisfaction of a quarterback making a first down on his opening drive.

Armansky was a third-generation Armenian American. The Ottoman Turks attacked his ancestors’ village and crucified all but his grandparents, father, and aunt during the First World War’s Armenian Genocide. They immigrated to America. How a nigh penniless immigrant family departed Ellis Island in 1917 and found themselves in Sally, Alabama, ten days later was because of his grandfather’s trade. He was a master glazier.

After calling on the premier stained glass guild in New York, the grandfather who spoke nary a word of English was turned away, but a compassionate apprentice followed the family. Upon catching them, he asked if any of the family spoke English. Dragan’s father, then aged 14, had labored to learn English on the crossing. He pestered every English-speaking passenger on the ship relentlessly to pick up a bit here and a bit there. The apprentice read the letter to him. Dragan’s father humbly asked the apprentice to read it to him twice more while the boy followed the written words. The apprentice had to return to his bench. He parted by handing Dragan’s father the letter and saying, “Tell your father that this group was not interested in sending a glazier to Alabama. The letter was in the wastebasket. I will pay your family’s train passage to travel with me and accept the commission. I’m ready to venture out on my own. I’m tired of these old crows. I will be in the courtyard eating my bread and fish at noon. If he decides to take me up on my offer, see me then. A year later, the St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church of Sally, Alabama, had new windows. “Old Armansky” worked for churches throughout North Alabama and South Central Tennessee over the next twenty-five years.

The trade died with the grandfather. Armansky’s father had a nose for business. He prospered in dry goods, becoming one of Sally’s most successful merchants. Armansky was the youngest of eight siblings. His aunt married a McElroy and had six children. Armansky took yet another path. At present, he ran a detective agency, an alarm company, and he owned fourteen rental properties; the Triad rented one of those.

Connie pecked on her boss’s open door. “Dragan, Therese Belivet is here to see you.”

Armansky frowned at the interruption as he glanced at the clock. He sighed, “Send her in.” Armansky stood.

“Hi,” said Therese curtly.

“Good morning, Therese. How are you today?”

She nodded and handed him a manila envelope.

“You’ve finished?” he asked in surprise.

Once again, she nodded.

“He pinched-up the brass fasteners and opened the envelope. Then spread the contents across his desk.”

Therese took a step back and closed the door as Connie watched concernedly from her desk across the hall. Armansky noticed the move and raised a suspicious eyebrow. He studied the six photographs.

Therese jolted him when she spoke, “The client is correct in suspecting her husband, but not of adultery. He is brokering crack.”

“Damn, Therese!”

“I know.”

“I will have to take this to the police.”

“I know that as well. Will you keep my name out of it?”

“You know I will.”

“I do. Do you have anything else for me?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Call me.”

“I will. Hey, you look even thinner. Are you getting enough to eat? I told those ne’re do well nephews of mine to look after you.”

She sighed, “Armansky, I told you; I don’t need anyone to look after me. And, I’m not on drugs.”

“Nonetheless, I worry.”

“Then pay me twice as much for my research and pics.”

He smirked and shook his head. “Look, I only charge you kids half the normal rent for that fine little house.”

“Well, your ‘fine little house’ has roaches.”

He winced in disgust. “I’ll have Connie call an exterminator at once.”

“You do that. But, I want to be there when they spray the cellar.”

“Of course.”

“Will you get paid for this job? I mean—”

“I’ll keep the retainer, but no, I won’t bill her. I can’t even directly reveal what we discovered.”

“That sucks.”

“It does, but it’s one of the many risks of the trade. You did as assigned, Therese. Don’t worry about it?”

*****

“Good morning, Abby!” chimed Carol as she stepped into Abby’s office.

“Hello, Carol. My, my, aren’t you chipper.” Abby leaned close, and with a wicked grin, whispered, “Did you finally find and score the other Sally Lesbian?”

“Very funny, Duck.”

“Oh, well, there’s always Coach Brown at the middle-school.”

“Coach Brown? Hasn’t she retired yet?”

“Ohh, no. I think she’ll work until she drops dead on the hardwood.”

“Hmm, I guess they’ll bury her in those gym shorts.”

“With the whistle.”

Their cackling was cut short by the assistant editor’s entrance.

Abby asked, “Yes, Erika?”

“Boss, that kid you put on the cocaine story ain’t come up with shit.”

Abby could literally feel Carol’s ears perking.

Erica patiently waited for a response. She gave Carol a pretty smile and a tilt of her head. Then she added, “Two more folks OD’d Saturday night, or rather, Sunday morning.”

Abby asked, “More bad crack?”

“Looks like it. The cops were trying to keep a lid on it but finally announced it first thing this morning.”

“Fuckers. They dodged Sunday and Monday’s editions.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Let me think on it, Erika? I’ll holler.”

“Sure thing, Boss. See ya, Carol.” She turned and exited as smoothly as she entered.

Carol murmured, “I’d like to make Erika ‘holler’.”

“Now, now, Carol. She’s as straight as an arrow. You’ll have to go spray someone else’s corners.”

“Well, you’re no fun.”

“Maybe not, but how would you like a shot at this crack cocaine thing.”

“What? I didn’t even ask.”

“I know, and that’s why I’m offering it to you. But, if you think it—”

“Fuck no, Abby. I’m in.”

“I loved that last piece, honey. Your pipeline is clear, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Well, go work your cop and deputy buddies and see what you can shake out of the trees.”

“Okay. Abby … I … well, I—”

“Get out of here, Goose. Oh, and take your time on this story, but—”

“Hurry?”

“Xactly.”

*****

Therese went home to an empty house. Dannie and Phil were both working day shifts this week at Sally Forge, an iron foundry in East Sally. She smiled; the boys had rinsed their dishes, put them in the sink, wiped off the kitchen table, and took out the garbage. They even put a new bag in the 13-gallon can. Therese washed the dishes and placed them in the drying rack. She went to her darkroom and began work on her other roll. She had not taken the time to develop it earlier, thinking that there was nothing else of interest on her last few photographs of the narcotics transaction. She had changed her mind.

Later, about one, Therese raced from the Triad’s back door to her red 1980 Kawasaki kz440. She cinched-up her chin strap, slapped-down her tinted visor, and hit the electric starter. Therese was at Armansky’s in less than five minutes.

*****

Earlier, at mid-morning, Carol knocked on Police Lieutenant Mack Dugger’s office door. Her friend since grade school, he glanced up from his paperwork and beamed, “Carol! Get in here, gorgeous!” He stood and hugged her. She had coffees from Scant’s Market in each hand. “Did you bring me a coffee?”

“Cream and sugar, right?”

He nodded, “Bless your heart. The hot piss in our break room is disgusting.”

“I recall.”

“Yeah, how could anyone forget?”

“How ya doin’, Mack?”

“Okay, but I know you didn’t drop by to see my pretty face and inquire about my health. I’ll simply ask. How can I help you?”

“I’m sorry. Am I that obvious?”

“Yes. But, I love it. Just seeing you has made my morning.”

She sipped her coffee and sighed, “Yum, that is good.”

“I know. It was always my first stop back when I was a patrolman. Have a seat, Carol.”

Carol eased into one of his stark metal and vinyl chairs. “Mack, one of your boys was telling me about a major revelation surfacing in this crack cocaine situation.”

“Which one of my boys?”

She smiled and shrugged.

“Fine. Has Abby put you on this?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Lord help us now! Carol, have you heard the hunting phrase ‘too much gun’?”

“What? My past accomplishments preclude me from writing about such small-town crime?”

“Something like that?”

“C’mon, Mack; you know where I’ve been and where I’m at.”

“I do, and I think you should keep writing those smart little pieces about—”

“What ... over-the-hill rockers, World War II veterans, and the sweet little lady that grows championship roses on Tuscaloosa Street?”

“Yeah. I love that stuff.”

Carol took her cigarette case from her handbag then asked, “May I?”

“Sure.”

She offered the case to him. He replied, “No thanks, Barb wants me to quit.”

Carol chuckled condescendingly as Mack reached across with a disposable lighter and lit her smoke.

“Then, why do you keep that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I hold it and fantasize about smoking.”

She tilted her head back and laughed. It was a gesture that had given him stiffies since junior high school.

“Mack, give me something, big guy.”

He thought, _I’d like to give you ‘something,’ darlin’!_ Fine, one of Dragan’s dicks was working a cheating-husband case and inadvertently witnessed and photographed a favorite son doing a crack deal. Drag cherishes his relationship with law enforcement.”

“No shit! Armansky?”

“God’s honest.”

“I can’t believe you just told me that.”

“Well, it’s all coming out in a press conference at three. You can hold on to it until then, right?”

“Yes, but thank you for the jump on the competition.”

“It’s the least I can do for my first.”

Perplexed, she asked, “First?”

“Crush.”

“When?”

“Nap time in Mrs. Reeder’s kindergarten class.”

She smiled with the slightest of a blush.

“Who’s the 'son'?”

“I’m gonna tell you only because we’ve already picked him up; Blake Hughes.”

“Well, well! That is newsy.”

“Yep.”

Carol flicked her ashes in Mack’s tray then stood. “I’ve taken enough of your time, Mack. I’ll see you at the conference.”

“So, you’re just going to use me and leave me?”

“Afraid, so,” she winked.

“Hey, I’ll let you out the back. You walked over, didn’t you?”

“I did. I never had the convenience of a police station located behind my newspaper.”

He opened the door for her. A frigid gust made them both shiver. He winked this time, “I’ll get you a key.”

She released the results of her last inhale to the side. The wind carried it away. “Thanks, Mack. Tell Barb; I said hi.”

He nodded but thought, _No chance in hell, sweetheart._

*****

Therese shot past Connie and barged into Armansky’s office. She had another photo envelope in her hand. She gathered it to her chest defensively upon finding that her employer was not alone. It was the stunning drunk from Friday night.

“Therese, I’m with someone,” he stated firmly.

Therese did an about-face and rushed from not only the office but also the building.

Armansky stepped to his window to see Therese get on her motorcycle. Carol, stunned by the ethereal elf's entry and exit, leaned forward to watch as well.

Armansky regained his composure. “I’m sorry, Carol, I can’t help you with anything else in this matter. I'm disappointed in Mack's sending you my way.”

“I understand, Dragan. May I ask who that girl was?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“It’s just that she returned my wallet the other night. I want to reward her.”

“Oh.” He shook his head as if going against his better judgment. “She’s a freelancer I employ occasionally.” He saw by Carol’s expression that he had gone too far; the clever newspaper reporter just found the answer to her original request. Unlike the always-together Armansky, he stammered, “You can leave the reward with me, and I will see that she receives it.”

“A freelancer? I wouldn’t have thought her old enough.”

She is older than she looks.

“I see. Well, thanks for the offer, but I’m sure I’ll run into her sooner or later. I’d prefer giving it to her in person.”

“As you wish, but …”

Carol had never seen Armansky so flustered. “But, what, Drag?”

“She’s had a rough life. Would you please not make it any rougher?”

Carol saw her self out of the Your Security building. In the parking lot, she spotted a young man getting out of a Your Security vehicle. She was pleased upon recognizing him as a fellow she babysat in her teens. “Ricky Stutz! I’ve not seen you in years! How are you?”

“Oh! Hey, Mrs. Aird! I’m fine, and you.”

“I’m good, Ricky. So, you work for Armansky.”

“Yes, Ma’am … the past three years.”

“I see. Hey, Ricky, do you know y’all’s freelancer that ride’s a red motorcycle?”

“Oh, God! Did she hit your car or something?”

“No, nothing like that. She found my wallet last week and returned it. I wanted to thank her in person.”

“Good luck with that, Mrs. Aird. She’s a hell bitch.”

“Ricky, that seems harsh.”

“I guess, but nobody really likes her here … ’cept for Mr. Armansky.” He added a smirk and a shrug.

Carol realized there was water cooler gossip of something sexual between the young woman and Armansky. Carol’s senses rejected such a notion.

“Well, I gotta go in and clock out. Listen, Mrs. Aird, my advice to you is to stay away from Therese Belivet.” He paused a moment then added, "But if you want to find her. She's always sitting at Bluff Park staring at the river."

“I appreciate that, Ricky. Hey, it was nice to see you. Tell your folks I said hello.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Carol strolled to her Bronco. _Therese Belivet! It’s lovely_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/NEvSQqI)  
>   
> 1980 Kawasaki kz440.


	5. Overwhelmed

Carol drove her Bronco east from downtown. She took Spring Street to the Dam Road then headed north a quarter-mile to the Bluff Park entrance. It was a city recreational green space of a hundred acres or more. The sky was now overcast, and the temperature had fallen into the low forties. Intermittent northwestern winds were picking up in frequency and velocity. Carol drove past the winterized ball fields and vacant tennis courts until she reached the area above “the bluff.” It had dozens of picnic tables and two pavilions scattered among oaks, maples, cedars, and pines. She checked her watch. It was half-past one. Carol needed to head back to the police station by 2:30 to get a good seat at the press conference. She grinned when she spotted the red bike. “Thank you, Ricky.”

Carol parked about fifty feet from the Kawasaki in the otherwise empty lot. She scanned the area for Therese as she put on the parka she always kept in the back of her vehicle. Carol was glad she chose slacks and flats that morning. Not spotting Therese, Carol walked towards the river. She found Therese sitting cross-legged on the top of the farthest table.

Therese glanced back at her suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to thank you for returning my wallet.”

“Why? Are you so shocked that some ugly punker could amazingly do the right thing? Something honest and nice like returning a drunk’s valuable?”

“First and foremost, you are not ugly. Second, I’m not a drunk; I was drunk that night, but I’m not a drunk.”

“If you say so.”

“My name is Carol Aird.”

“I know, you write for the _Star-Herald_.”

With surprise in her voice, Carol asked, “Do you like to read the paper?” She immediately regretted it, but it was too late to redirect.

“Shit, lady. Yes, I read the goddam paper. Duh! Therese can read.”

“That came out wrong.”

“I’ll say.”

“I asked because so many younger adults don’t read the paper these days.”

“Is that like a scientific fact, or is that just your notion?”

“There’s hard statistical data to back it up.”

“Oh, well, fine, then.”

Therese gazed at Carol. Carol noticed that the heavy makeup was gone, and the faux hawk was morphed into a funky lay-down to the left of her face. Her eyebrows were bleached, and Carol found the half-dozen ear, nose, lip, and eyebrow piercings erotic. Carol played her next card, “I wish I’d had the guts for your look when I was young.”

Therese did not know how to respond. She shifted her gaze back to the choppy Tennessee River. Carol glanced across the lake as well. Formed by the dam to the west, it was over a mile to the other side.

Carol’s attention refocused on Therese when Therese said. “I like some of your articles.”

Carol asked, “Really?”

“Oh, not so much the ones in our paper. I went to periodicals in the library and looked you up. Your stuff for the big papers was world-class. What happened? I know you were born and raised in Sally, but why the hell did you come back here? Was it the booze?”

Carol gave up. “Yes, it was the booze and the death of my daughter and her father. Are you happy that I’ve told you that? It’s something I never talk about.”

“Depression is a demon.”

“Does that dragon’s tail chase away your demons, Therese?”

Stunned, Therese fired her eyes into Carol’s. Green and blue witched each other’s souls.

Carol broke the stare first. She noticed the envelope secured from the wind by the girl's cute little bottom. “Are those more pictures of the drug deal for Armansky?”

Therese shifted back to the water.

Carol tried again, “I’m sorry I was in his office and frightened you.”

“I wasn’t frightened, more like freaked out.”

“Well, I—”

“Actually, it was a good thing. I won’t show them to him now. I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

Carol’s candor had moved Therese. She couldn’t believe what she confessed next, “There is someone in one of those pics that I didn’t notice the night I took them.”

“Another upstanding Sally citizen?” Carol asked sarcastically.

“No, a real demon. Actually, he’s the devil incarnate.”

“My God, Therese. You’re shaking!”

Carol took off her parka and draped it over Therese’s shoulders. She stepped up on the concrete bench, then eased down beside Therese and put her arm around her.

Therese cried. “Who are you, lady? I don’t let strangers touch me. This is fucking unreal!”

Carol started to pull her arm back.

Therese cried, “No, leave it there. I like it.”

Carol snuggled up close and pulled the waif-like female into her.

Therese quaked, “Mrs. Aird, I’m going to lift my butt cheek. Will you grab those pics?

“Sure, but only if you call me Carol.”

“Therese leaned into Carol. Carol reached down and grasped the envelope.”

“You can open it, but be careful; don’t let the photos blow away.”

Carol did as instructed and began to glance at each photo, shifting them to the bottom as she progressed.”

“That’s it,” blurted Therese. “See the man in the background at the corner of that warehouse?”

“Yes. Who is he, Therese?”

“That’s him … the devil.”

“Has he harmed you, Therese?”

She could only nod. Therese started sobbing. Carol slipped the photographs back into their sleeve and closed it tight. She fished a few Kleenexes from her coat pocket. “Here, sweetie.”

“Thanks,” Therese sniffed. She wiped her eyes then blew her nose. “I’m sorry for falling apart like that, Carol. You must really think I’m a pussy.”

Carol chuckled, “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for crying, Therese. I cry all the fucking time.”

Therese smiled.

“Who is that man in the photo?”

“He is my biological father, Karl Axel Bodine.”

Carol could not respond.

“He killed my mother in front of me on my 12th birthday.” I stabbed him in the gut with a butcher knife. As you can see, he lived.”

“Did a relative take you in?”

“There was no one that like that, especially after they locked me up in a psych ward for nine months.”

“Locked you up? That is unimaginable?”

“Well, imagine it. Bodine had influential contacts and expensive lawyers. He convinced the authorities that Momma was trying to kill him, and after he defended himself striking her down … well, he made it look like I was a psycho nutcase. I grew up in foster homes, but finally ran away when I was sixteen and took care of myself. Well, there are two friends I took up with in 80. They are my brothers.

You have brothers?

Not real brothers.

Oh, I see. I'm glad you have someone.

Carol rocked her gently. “Therese, don’t you think you should show that picture to Armansky or directly to the police?”

Therese hopped off the table, “No!” She took off the coat and thrust it to Carol. “Bodine is too powerful, too evil. He’ll kill me, Armansky, and whoever comes after him.”

“Therese, darling, he can’t be that much of a monster. They could get him and lock him away this time.”

“I can’t take that chance, Carol.”

Therese began to walk towards the parking area.

Carol put on her coat as she hurried along behind the fast walking girl.

“Therese, what are you going to do? Destroy the photos?”

“No. I don’t know.”

“Where do you live, honey? Are you going home?”

“Not far from here. Yes, I guess so.”

“Can I take you to dinner tonight or make you supper? Will at least one of your brothers be there? You don’t need to be alone.”

“What, make me supper in that big spooky house of yours at Five Points? Ya, right?”

“Holy shit, girl. Is there anything you don’t know about me?”

“It’s what I do, gorgeous.”

Carol was taken aback by Therese, calling her ‘gorgeous’."

“I’ve got to go to a police press conference and then finish my article. It’ll probably be the lead in tomorrow’s edition.” They were almost at the lot. “I’ll be home by seven. How about I pick up a pizza and some beers for us. Can you come over?”

Therese froze in her tracks and turned. “Lead article? Oh, fuck! Bodine will see that and know that whoever witnessed the exchange probably saw him as well. Maybe, I should destroy the pics and blow town.”

“Leave town, in this weather? Freezing rain is forecast for tonight. You are not going to take that crotch rocket out on the highways in that kind of weather.”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, lady. Are you transferring your dead daughter into me? That’s sick, Mom!”

“No, not at all. I just care about you and want you safe.”

Therese had her helmet on. She fired up the 443 cc engine. Almost yelling to be heard above the revs, she stated, “If you want to help me. Just stay away from me. Hey, it’s for your own good. I’m bad luck; just ask anybody.”

Carol watched Therese until the bike turned onto the Dam Road. No one was around to hear her talking to herself. "No, Therese Belivet, I do not want to be your mother." Carol felt the tears on her cheeks; the wind made them sting. “Shit! Now, I don’t have any fucking Kleenexes left!” 


	6. All Night Long

After departing the police station, Carol trotted across Tennessee Street and then ran the last few steps to the paper’s loading dock. She slipped by the forklifts and waved at the workers.

“Looking good, Mrs. Aird!” flirted Jon-Jon Smith.

“You, too, Jon-Jon!”

He grinned at his buddies, but they shook their heads at him.

That morning, between her conversations with Mack and Armansky, Carol had outlined her article and written over half of it. She sat down and reviewed her notes from the press conference. She was having trouble keeping Therese out of her head. Carol thought, _Go away, my tiny, sexy girl. I must work._ It was a quarter to four.

Abby and Erika dropped by around six. Abby asked, “How’s it looking, Carol?”

“Good.”

“That’s my, girl! Hey, do you mind if we start proofing and editing what you’ve got?”

“Oh, that would be great! I thought y’all might come by.” Carol handed them printouts of the first two-thirds of her article. They dove in. Carol resumed typing on her processor.

Abby handed Carol her page with a couple of marks. Carol explained away one and agreed with the other. Erika had one suggestion marked. Carol agreed. Abby said, “This will be the lead.”

Carol raised her hands above her shoulders and cheered silently. The editors laughed. Carol finished her last sentence and soon had the complete draft in their hands.

Carol left a few minutes after seven. Abby had hugged her and told her to call in the morning if the roads were “nasty.” Carol hurried to Bronkie; the temperature had dropped dramatically. She pessimistically drove past Pasquale’s, then turned around at Super X and went back, thinking, _Hell, I gotta eat anyway._ Carol ordered a large with everything but Anchovies; if she got iced in, there’d be leftovers for tomorrow. They told her it would be thirty minutes. She sat and watched people come and go for a few minutes, then told the boy at the counter she would be right back. Carol darted across the street to Jerry’s, a package store, and purchased a six-pack of Dos Equis long necks from their cooler. She still had trouble believing that her churchie county had gone wet during her absence.

It was nearly eight when Carol pulled into her grass and gravel driveway. She was surprised that her living room light was on. Carol scanned her yard with the little flashlight that always hung from her key ring. Her heart raced when a glint of red appeared in the old barn behind her house.

Carol walked back to her vehicle, collected her purse, the pizza, and the beers. She hurried to her front door. Therese opened it.

“I hope you don’t mind. It got so damn cold. You should lock your door.”

Carol smiled, “It’s fine. I’m glad I didn’t lock it this time. I’m sorry about the time. Honestly, I didn’t think you were coming.

Therese blocked Patty from jumping up on Carol and took the pizza. Therese said, “No, no, Patty; let your Mommy come in and get situated.”

Carol wondered how Therese knew Patty’s name until she remembered the dog tag she had the pet store stamp for her.

Once Carol was in, Therese closed the door and turned the deadbolt. Carol set her purse in the foyer, then walked the beers to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There was already a carton of Dos Equis long-necks in the fridge with one missing. She glanced around and saw an open bottle on the coffee table in the living room. Carol noted, “I see you like Dos Equis, too?”

“It’s my fav.”

“Mine, too!”

Carol loved on Patty for a few seconds, baby talking, “Oh, yes! You are such a good guard dog. Yes, her is. She’s a big mean guard dog.”

Carol was thrilled when she heard Therese laugh out loud for the first time. Therese reported, “I was cautious with Patty at first, but she seems to know a kind heart when she meets one.” Therese winked at Carol. “By the way, I took her out to go potty then fed her; she was a good girl. I gave her one scoop of that dry Purina, right?”

“My goodness, you're hired.”

They grinned at each other. “I’m glad you’re here, Therese.”

“I’m glad you’re home. Was it okay to park my bike in that barn-thing in the back? I was nervous about leaving it on the street.”

“Absolutely. By the way, that really was a barn back in the day. Daddy once told me that the original owners kept a milk cow. No wonder; he said they had like a dozen kids. My folks used it for storage. My friend Abby and I used it for a playhouse.”

Therese remarked, “I’d love to go back in time and see what this neighborhood was like back at the turn of the century.”

“I know. I do that all the time no matter where I’m at.”

“I guess Indians ran around your yard chasing deer and rabbits at some point.”

Carol laughed. Her eyes glistened with joy.

Therese noticed. To cover her blush, she opened the refrigerator and got out a beer for Carol. The opener was on the counter. Therese popped the cap off and handed it to Carol, then went and fetched hers from the other room.

Carol extended her brew for a toast. “Here’s to new friends and great beginnings.”

Therese tapped the bottles, never taking her eyes from Carol’s. They took long swigs.

Carol asked, “I’m glad you did, but what made you buy beers?”

“I’ll have you know, Carol Aird; that is the first legal alcohol I have ever purchased. I’m twenty-one today. I just had to stop and buy them.”

“Today is your birthday?”

Therese excitedly smiled while nodding her head. Two adorable dimples made Carol cream. She shook the surge off and announced, “Well, here’s to your twenty-first, my dear!” They tapped the bottles and drank again.

Therese, in a matter-of-fact way, said, “Nobody remembered. I thought Phil and Dannie might have cards waiting for me or something when I went home this evening … but no.”

“Oh, no. That’s horrible, Therese; it breaks my heart.”

“It’s no biggie. They got so much shit going on … well. Hey, they’ll feel like ‘shit’ when they realize they both forgot it.”

Carol was moved. She hugged Therese. What Carol thought would be a cursory embrace was not. Therese did not release her. The shorter woman’s face tilted up to Carol’s. They kissed. It was soft, just long enough, and magical. After wondrous seconds, Therese broke the embrace and stepped over to the pizza. She opened Carol’s oven door and slipped the cardboard box on the middle rack. She teased, “I wouldn’t want Patty to eat our pizza. Let me see here, yes it's all turned off. Don’t you think sex is better on an empty tummy?”

Carol numbly nodded and reached for Therese’s hand. Therese took it. Carol glanced at Patty, “Patty, lie down in mouse and be a good girl.”

“Mouse?”

“The soft grey recliner in the living room.”

“Oh, yeah. I sat in that for a couple of minutes. I was almost a goner. I had to move, or you would have come home to find a sleeping prowler in your recliner.”

As Patty hopped up in “her” chair, Carol commented, “That would have been alright, but I loved how you greeted me.” Carol gently led Therese from the living room and up the heart pine staircase. On the way, the reporter flipped on the second floor light illuminating the landing and the foyer.

Carol had a king-size heated waterbed in her bedroom. It was massive. The bed was made of oak with stained glass "hidey-holes" in its looming head and six bedding-drawers surrounding its base.

Therese’s eyes widened. “Oh, my fucking God!”

“I got this a couple of months ago and put it on 90 days-same-as-cash … one payment left. Will you christen it with me?”

Therese excitedly hugged Carol then darted to the far side. “Let’s dance, gorgeous.”

Carol had not turned on any bedroom lights: there was just the ambient glow from the landing. “Do you mind the light from the landing; I want to see you.”

“Are you kidding? Me too, you; it’s perfect.”

They began to undress. Clothes were removed and flung onto the hope chest at the foot of the bed.

Carol could not believe Therese’s body. It was rail-thin but not unhealthily so. Carol expected to find tattoos; there were none. The only surprise Therese's clothes hid were a pair of delightful nipple piercings. As Therese bent over to work her patched jeans off of her feet, Carol followed the most beautiful female back she had ever seen. It curved ever so gently down to the glorious little rump of Carol's hottest fantasies.

Therese pulled down the covers and gasped, “Flannel sheets!” She crawled onto the bed. Therese had never been on a waterbed. She lost her balance and collapsed to her side, then rolled onto her back, giggling as the warm waves took her up and down. Did I say, “Oh, my fucking God?”

Carol chuckled, “You did.”

Carol finally finished and tossed her panties to join the tangle of the garments.

She rolled onto the undulating flannel surface and landed next to her lover.

Therese immediately took Carol in her arms and began to kiss her. Carol could have died right then and been a happy woman. Therese kissed with luxuriant energy that made Carol burn. Therese murmured. “I love your mouth, lady.” Carol could not stay ahead of the fairy in her bed. Therese took her mouth to Carol’s breasts and began noshing and nibbling. “You taste so fucking good, Carol.”

Carol tried to respond, but she could not spare the oxygen for mere words. It was needed for feeding her screaming core. Carol had no warning when Therese’s index and pointer went in her dripping cunt. A little thumb teamed with them from the outside working Carol’s clit. She moaned, then gasped, then moaned, and then Carol heard a primordial scream. It took her a moment to realize the scream was her own.

Carol opened her eyes to the indirect light and watched as Therese rose upright on her knees then glared down on Carol like a medieval harpy. Therese was painting and glistening with their sweat. Carol had not heard the attic’s gas furnace click on. Her bedroom was the closest of all the upstairs rooms to the source. The heated air was streaming over the two women from the vent above Therese’s head. Therese saw that Carol was staring at her. She grinned, then folded into a tiny ball between Carol’s legs.

Carol had already decided that Therese’s most enticing feature of the many was her wee mouth with its naturally pursed lips. Carol jerked when the little mouth engaged her mound.

“Oh, fuck! Therese, you … you, are unrelenting. Jes … us H. Christ, girl!”

Therese’s level of sexual energy was enthralling. Carol recalled how ravenous she and Abby had been at twenty-one and thought, _Oh, my fucking God!_

Carol was sure she had never come so hard.

Therese pulled the covers up over them as they stilled to catch their breath. Suddenly she hopped out of bed. “I gotta go potty. Hey, do you want a beer? Can I use this?”

Carol glanced to see Therese pluck Carol’s bathrobe from the hook on her bathroom door. “Sure. Whatever you want, mistress.” She heard Therese guffaw.

After Carol heard the toilet flush, she saw Therese dart from the bathroom located just outside and to the left of Carol’s bedroom door. By the sound, Carol envisioned her sprite taking two steps at a time to the first floor. She heard a sweet girlie girl voice. “Patty? You doin’ okay, sweet baby?”

Carol whispered, “I want you forever, Therese Belivet. Or, at least as long as you’ll have me.” Then, confident of a fierce round two, she felt it wise to partake of the facility as well.

Carol heard Therese’s bare feet strike ten of the nineteen stairs as the girl returned.

Carol was exiting the toilet and surprised Therese. Therese chirped, “Oh, here.”

Carol took the cold beer and downed a third of it with her first gulp. Therese hung the robe on its hook and leaped back on the bed with her beer in hand. Carol warned, “Careful, darling! It’s not a trampoline. You’ll burst one of its baffles.”

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry.” Therese stilled and observed the rolling surface. She heard gurgling sounds from within the half-ton bladder. Are those sounds from the baffles?”

Carol laughed, “Yes. I love the sound of them. It sounds natural. Don’t worry. I’m sure it's fine, Therese. I just wanted you to be aware that its biggest enemies are heavy impacts and sharp objects.”

Therese snickered, “I’ll have to watch the piercings.”

Carol grinned, then gracefully controlled her beer as she rolled to join the object of her affection. She didn’t spill a drop.

They pulled one of the heavy sheets up to their hips and faced each other, leaning on their elbows. Therese cracked up Carol when she toasted “orgasms.”

Carol had finished her beer. She waited as Therese drained hers then took it to join her dead soldier on the nightstand. Speaking of orgasms, I owe you. Therese’s eyebrow perked, and the dragon tail’s diamond sparkled with the movement.

Carol pulled Therese close and kissed her slow and deep. She ran her hands along the girl’s back and killer derriere. Carol shifted her mouth to the pair of perky breasts. Therese lovingly writhed with the slow, delicious attention. Carol continued to warm Therese patiently. She took her hand to Therese's crotch, both hands in fact. Carol started slow and gentle, then progressed until she had a thumb-tip in Therese’s ass, fingers in her vagina, and the other hand vigorously fanning her lover's delightfully responsive clitoris.

Carol made the birthday girl come twice via her “handy work” then, with no respite, pleased her orally for a celestial half-hour. At one point, Therese sang out, “Happy birthday to me!”

When Carol felt she was square with the house, she reached for her ceramic cigarette box. Much to her delight, she had tasted tobacco with their first kiss. “Cigarette, love?”

Therese took one, then cautioned, “Don’t use that word unless you mean it, lady.”

“Love?”

“Yes.”

“Point taken. But, I’m falling fast. Oh, shit. Life’s too short! Despite your dark secrets and private ways, I love you, Therese. Go ahead, slap me for being a fool. I love you. I love you. You don’t even have to love me back.”

Therese anxiously turned her back to Carol. Carol snuggled up to her and reached over, “flicking her Bic” to light the enchanting creature’s smoke. Carol lit her own and rolled on to her back, leaving her left hand stroking Therese’s hip.

Therese broke the silence. “Nobodies ever said that to me before. Well, in a romantic sense … my Momma told me she loved me constantly.”

“Twelve?”

“Twelve.”

“Therese, we have to nail that bastard.”

“No, it’s my fight, Carol, and I’m too cowardly to pursue it.”

“You’re no coward, Therese; take that back. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever known.”

“Ya, right.”

“Oh, Therese.”

Therese sat up. “Oh, shit! It’s started.”

Carol listened intently. She had not heard the sound since moving back to North Alabama. Sally was due.

Carol asked, “Are you okay with that robe?”

“Sure.”

Carol stepped to grab it then tossed it to Therese. She dabbed out her cigarette in the bedside tray, then opened her closet and pulled out a real robe-robe. Carol crossed the room and opened one of the ancient windows, then its modern storm window. A biting cold radiated from the screen. Therese had donned the robe and joined Carol. Through the screen, they heard the steady, icy hiss of freezing rain. Some of the branches were already glistening in the streetlights.

After a half-minute, Carol returned the windows to down-and-locked. She reclosed its louvered shutter and latched it as well.

“Let’s heat that pizza, motorcycle girl.”

“I hear that! What kind is it?”

“It’s loaded.”

“Oh, but not those gross fishy thingies!”

“Heavens, no. I hate anchovies.”

“Maybe, I do love you, lady.”

Downstairs, Carol turned on the radio to listen to the emergency broadcasts in between golden oldies. “Sorry, you probably hate these old rock tunes.”

“No fucking way, lady. I love them. I love punk, too. I even listen to classical music sometimes when the guys are gone. But, never that whiny-ass shit-kicker stuff.”

Carol loved it. “You are an American Original, Therese.”

“Thanks … I guess.”

Carol howled with joy as the next song started. It was Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young’s _Carry On_. She began to dance around her kitchen island to the fast guitar and drum rhythms of the song's first verses. Therese joined her. They stopped and held hands to harmonize face to face when the dudes hit the slower,

“Girl, when I was on my own

Chasing you down

What was it made you run

Tryin’ your best just to get around

Questions of a thousand dreams

What you do and what you see

Lover, can you talk to me?”

They kissed and hugged. “I’m telling you, little girl, we’re soul mates.”

Therese grinned teasingly at Carol. “Let’s eat!”

They chose to perch on stools at the kitchen island to gaze at each other and make silly faces while eating and drinking.

Later, on their second slices, Carol asked, “I was rash. You might have a girlfriend … or even a boyfriend for that matter.”

Therese snorted, almost choking on her beer. “Boyfriend? Yuck, yuck, yuck. No, fucking way. I have a girlfriend that’s a friend. We party and fuck when we have a mind to, but the idea of Miriam Wu committing to a relationship is unfathomable.”

“Miriam Wu? She’s that local karate champion isn’t she?

“That’s right.”

“Do you do karate, Therese?”

“Well, sorta. I don’t have the discipline, patience, or social skills to be a member of a dojo, but Miriam has taught me a lot of moves one on one.”

“I bet,” Carol said with a note of jealousy.

Therese reached over and tapped her nose. “Oh, you. No, I mean, she taught me some moves that I can use for self-defense. At five-feet and 90 pounds, I need all the help I can get.”

“But, it’s the most adorable five-feet and 90 pounds I’ve ever encountered.”

“Adorable? Really, Carol? Are you on drugs?”

“Carol pulled the pizza to her side of the island. “Just for that, you can’t have any more pizza pie?”

“Pizza pie? Geez, Carol! I do love you.”

Carol’s eyes darted to her lover’s. Therese sheepishly smiled. The dimples appeared.

Carol knew that the girl with the dragon tail piercing meant it. She slowly pushed the box towards Therese. “Have another piece, honey puss.”

Therese’s face sank into her hands, laughing. “Shit, that made me wet. Are we going to fuck some more after we finish the pizza and take Patty out?”

Carol did her best, Lionel Richie imitation passionately singing out, “All Night Long!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/HyTeho3)   
> 
> 
> I chuckled at the "Grade Level" score. Given this saucy chapter, one is glad it refers to reading skill level and not age-appropriate content. Smirk.


	7. Icy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to knock some of the 64-year-old cobwebs out of my head remembering what we had and didn't have in 1983. I gave up and started Googling:
> 
> Cell phones — large, expensive, and rare
> 
> Personal computers — pricy, low powered, and uncommon
> 
> Cordless household phones — no
> 
> Pagers - yes
> 
> Word processors — it looks like they'd been around for years, but they were costly. A newspaper might have bulky workstations with integral processors. If you worked for a newspaper back then and know better, please enlighten me.

The first _crack_ and _crash_ of a falling limb startled Carol and Therese awake in the predawn light of Tuesday. Carol’s dash to the window revealed that a twenty-foot dead limb had fallen from the majestic cypress oak in her front yard. She immediately scolded herself for not taking the advice of her next-door neighbor to have her trees trimmed. Richard Semco had said, “Mrs. Aird, I talked to my tree guys; they’d be glad to take care of your trees as soon as they finish over here. Do you want me to ask them to give you an estimate?”

Richard was a twenty-something, strapping bachelor recently transferred to manage Sally’s trendy, new chain-gym. He was “Mr. Perfect.” Carol was sure he designated everything on his schedule as A-level, especially his weightlifting and running. Richard purchased the old Barton place in June. Its floor plan mirrored Carol’s. The list of improvements he had already knocked out was much longer than the list of things Carol wanted to have done. In afterthought, Carol was sure she passed on the tree service’s estimate because Richard always addressed her as “Mrs. Aird” like some old lady.

Therese slipped under Carol’s arm and surveyed the damage. The streetlight from across the street helped illuminate the area. Carol did not have her glasses on. Therese’s young eagle eyes spotted the cable line laying in Carol’s icy vinca minor. “Carol, is that your phone line?”

Carol squinted at where Therese pointed. They both followed the cord to see it snake across the glazed road surface and then limply climb up the pole in front of Genevieve Cranell’s house. “Oh, shit. Yes, it was attached to the house just above this window.” She stepped to the nightstand on “Therese’s” side of the bed and lifted the Princess phone’s handset to her ear.

“Dead?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad I called the boys last night and told them I was sleeping over.”

“Absolutely. Crap! I was supposed to call Abby this morning and find out about working today.”

“Well, you can’t drive in this shit, gorgeous … not even in that cool, old four-by-four.”

Carol smiled, “You think Bronkie is cool?”

“Bronkie? You named it “Bronkie?”

Carol proudly confirmed, “I did?”

Therese laughed and couldn’t resist hugging her precious lover. “It’s awesome.” After a pause, Therese asked, “Where does your power line run from?”

“It’s in the back. It comes off a transformer in the alley. I guess it’s fine; the clock and landing light are still on.”

Carol squeezed Therese tightly. “You can’t imagine how glad I am that you’re here.”

“I can, too. I feel the same way.”

“Sweetheart, we’ve only slept about three hours, and yet I’m not sleepy.”

“Me neither. All that sex has pumped us with endorphin.”

Carol eased Therese back onto the bed. Therese scooted to the middle. Carol crawled over the velvet rail and voraciously ate out her petite punker.

At half-past six, Carol pulled two sets of flannel pajamas from the hope chest then asked Therese, “Which do you prefer?”

Therese considered then chose the green ones. Carol responded, “Well, then, it’s crimson for me … Roll Tide!”

They went down to the kitchen and pondered their breakfast options. Therese chimed, “I make killer pancakes from scratch. It looks like you have everything I need.”

“Wonderful! I’ll start on some bacon and make coffee.”

Cigarettes dangled from the side of their lips as they attacked the tasks. Just as Therese started to heat her skillet for the pancakes, the front door’s chime rang out. Carol turned the eye down on the bacon and went to answer the door.

Patty barked once. Therese knelt to hold her collar and wuzzle her soft ear.

Carol saw through the door’s window that her dawn caller was Abby. As Carol opened the door, she could see the paper’s big, white Suburban parked at the end of her walk.

Abby looked like an ad from _Country Living_ in her corduroys, tweed blazer, and cutesy hiking boots. “Your phone line is down.”

“I know. I was going to use a neighbor’s phone to call you at seven.”

“I was worried about you with all these big trees. Super Dan fired up the Suburban and is making the rounds picking up a skeleton crew.”

Carol saw that Abby had a grocery bag in one hand and what was obviously Carol’s ice-covered newspaper in the other.

With some hesitation, Carol said, “Come in, Abby.”

“Okay, but just for a minute. I don’t want to leave Dan and Erica waiting too long.” Abby headed straight for the kitchen. “I made a grocery stop last night. I picked up extra milk and eggs … the bread was all gone. I’ll put these in your fridge. Hey, I smell bacon frying. Yum! Thank God for these plastic newspaper sleeves. Our delivery people got this issue out around one. I’m so proud of your piece. Don’t worry about coming in today. We’ll see you bright and early to—. Oh, hello.”

“Abby Gerhard meet Therese Belivet. Therese … Abby.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Gerhard.”

“That's Ms., but call me Abby, sweetie.”

“Sorry … ‘Ms.’ .... uh, Abby.”

Carol took the groceries and paper from the bemused Abby. She tossed the frozen paper into the empty section of the double-bowl sink then stepped to the refrigerator.

Abby broke her stare from Therese long enough to notice the pancake batter and skillet. “Oh, making pancakes. How fun.” It suddenly occurred to Abby where she had seen this pajama-clad raven. “You handed us the wallet on Friday night.”

Therese nodded.

“I remember both of your jammies; Carol bought them in Tuscaloosa. She paused on Carol’s figure. “You haven’t gained an ounce, Mamma.” Abby shifted her eyes back to Therese’s.

Therese managed a nervous smile and shrugged. Patty went to Abby.

“Hi, sweet girl.” Abby bent over to scratch Patty’s ear and snout. “Patty, did y’all have a spend?”

Carol ignored the snide query. “Abby, you’re a doll for bringing me these groceries. “Do you want a couple of slices of bacon for the road?”

Distractedly, Abby murmured, “Sure … three.”

“Of course, one for each of you. Here I’ll wrap them in a couple of paper towels.”

Carol tongued three slices into the paper towels and rolled them up tightly. She handed them to Abby. “Be careful, dear; they’re hot.”

“I will be careful, and y’all should, too. I mean … all this hot stuff. Thanks.”

An awkward silence followed.

Abby took a last glance at Therese then shifted to Carol. “Well, they’re waiting. I must be off. We’ll talk later. Carol, you must show your little friend the article.” The editor turned and quickly headed for the door.

Carol glanced at Therese with a concerned glance then followed Abby. Near the door, she poked Abby’s shoulder. Abby turned as she exited, mouthing, “What?”

Carol whispered, “Little friend? Really, Abby.”

Abby smirked. “Oh, is she, not your ‘friend,’ because she’s definitely ‘little’.”

“Are you jealous?”

Abby looked away and dabbed her eye. She lied, “No.”

“Abby, can you not just be happy for me.”

“Holy shit! You’ve fallen for her. I can see it in your eyes.”

Carol glared then jabbed, “Why don’t you tell them to run along without you and come back in an hour. You could walk across the street and warm up ‘Vivy!’ I know she’d love to see you.”

“That’s over.”

“Yep, it’s been over you … and under you … and behind you.”

“Fuck you, Carol.”

“Oh, don’t worry; I’m getting fucked.”

Abby stomped off. She slipped on the bottom step but regained her balance and avoided falling.

“Carol screamed in tears, “Abby, are you all right?”

Abby flipped her off without turning.

“Abby?”

Abby suddenly cringed as a huge pin oak limb let go in Genevieve’s yard. Two seconds later, another was heard crashing down from a block or two south. Abby hollered, sarcastically, “Oh, shit! We’re all gonna die!”

Dan Smoot’s window was down. He called out, “Abby, watch that sidewalk; it’s nasty!”

“Yeah, yeah, Smoot. I got it.”

Carol had stepped out on the porch when she feared Abby was falling. She now stood with her arms crossed, anxiously watching as Abby gingerly made her way to the big four-wheel-drive and climbed into its back seat. Smoot waved at Carol. Carol returned the gesture. Even after they pulled away, Carol stood and listened. She shivered as the sound of raining tree limbs filled North Sally. The icy mix was still falling as precipitously as when it started. 

Therese had come to the door. She opened it and ordered, “Carol, get in here! You’ll freeze to death.”

Carol complied and returned to the warmth. Therese closed the door. She handed Carol a kitchen towel, “Here, wipe your tears.”

Carol did so. She sniffled, “Therese, I’m so sorry for all that.”

“It’s fine. You two are something else. Does she come with this deal?”

Carol looked at Therese. She was in awe of the young woman’s old soul. “She does.”

Therese sighed, “I can live with that. I’ll cut her some slack because I’ve been there myself.”

Carol shook off the hurt and smiled. “Hey, let’s go flip some flapjacks!”


	8. Shattered Pasts and Nice Wood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/uH1Ulnz)   
> 

As they washed the pots, pans, and dishes from breakfast, Carol and Therese talked non-stop. The two lovers had the urge to learn everything they could about each other. Therese listened intently as Carol told of her childhood, high school years, and college. It flowed from her like water, open, unfiltered, and honest. Therese especially wanted to know about Abby. The svelte, intelligent friend of her Carol was a force to reckon with, and if need be, Therese was ready to engage.

Therese was falling deeper in love with this classy blonde writer by the minute. Physically, Carol was five-nine, lean, and possessed a unique facial beauty that seemed to calm yet excite Therese at the same time. She had long alabaster arms and legs that were thin but deceptively strong.

Intellectually, Carol had an almost childlike sense of humor that could turn on a dime and take one to the darkest of _SNL_ skits. And Carol never stopped learning. Therese couldn’t believe all that knowledge could fit in Carol’s pretty noggin. They had watched some TV news and read the paper while eating. Therese quickly realized that Carol was encyclopedic.

After finishing in the kitchen, they took their last cups of coffee to Carol’s second floor. Carol’s luscious bedroom was north of the central stairwell, along with the bathroom. Two other bedrooms were located south of the stairs. One lay in the front of the house. It was a guest bedroom with a view and a twist. Carol had turned the third bedroom into a tidy storage room. Her lover was organized but not to the point of being obsessive.

A few pieces of furniture had stayed with the house for generations. Carol cherished them. She had saved the window space in the south front bedroom for one of these pieces, the twist. With its amazingly intact and textured upholstery, a rose-colored, backless Récamier was where she took Therese to tell her of her married and working life. Patty followed and curled up in the room’s soft green armchair.

Therese cried when hearing of the automobile accident. Life had robbed this beautiful soul of her daughter and a man. Yes, Therese could tell that Carol truly loved Harge at some level, and the pit in her heart for Rindy was bottomless.

Carol was perhaps a highly functioning alcoholic, but Therese felt her love for Carol could keep the demons of depression at bay. Therese had them as well. Might they heal one another? Of course, they had a chance, a good chance.

Therese drank the last of her coffee and set the mug on the window seal. The precipitation had ended. They could hear the distant sirens and chain saws at times, but at this moment, there was silence. “Carol, I’ve never told any one person all of what I’m about to share with you. You’ve been frank with me, and I love you all the more for that. 

Carol gazed at her lover. Therese was indeed small and thin, but she had a sinewy athleticism that Carol found protective and sexy. While some would be disturbed by the girl’s decorative eccentricities, Carol took delight in them. The woman was brave and bizarre, yet shy as a cottontail. Carol loved it. Carol would bring out what Therese yearned to reveal but shield the private places, those for herself and Carol. Therese had not finished high school but later earned a GED after finding the bottom tiers of Pavlov’s hierarchies with her beloved Dannie and Phil. She was impressively well-read and self-educated. Carol would love to know what her smart filly’s IQ was. The girl had an artistic bent as well. That talent was well expressed in some non-work photos she had boldly brought with her the night before. Therese was proud of the prints, as well she should be, thought the seasoned print journalist.

“What kind of name is Belivet?”

“It’s Czech. My grandparents, who I never met, and my thirteen-year-old mother escaped through the Iron Curtain in 1951. They drifted through Europe, unwelcome and poor. Finally, they scraped up enough to take a tramp steamer to New Orleans. Grandpa was a welder by trade, and the Gulf’s offshore rigs were hurting for such. He found plenty of work but was gone for weeks at a time. Grandma started drinking. She overdosed on sleeping pills after a man came to inform them that Grandpa had been killed in a rig fire. My Momma had to bury them both at the same time; Grandpa’s casket was closed.

“Momma had started at Tulane, but her folks’ savings and a small life insurance settlement ran out during her sophomore year; she was about to flunk out anyway. She never really got over their death. Momma lost their apartment and was hungry.

“My mother was a looker. Imagine me with real boobs.”

“Oh, Therese; I love your breasts.”

“And I appreciate that, nonetheless …”

“Go on.”

“She went to work in a titty bar on Bourban Street. The tips were good, great at times, but she started popping pills to keep her courage up. It must have been torture traipsing around in front of all those drooling men six nights a week. Her stage name was Czech Cherry.”

“Oh, God. No.”

“Yes. Anyway, the human garbage, aka my father, was a Swedish merchant marine.”

“Oh, I see; Karl Axel Bodine is a Swedish name.”

“You got it. He smuggled drugs into all the southern ports: New Orleans, Mobile, and Galveston. He took a shine to Momma. She had a few pictures of him, and I guess you might have called him attractive in 1961. She fell for him, and every time he made port in New Orleans, he’d load her up with pills and bang the shit out of her.” Therese stopped and swallowed hard to keep from crying.

Carol gently gripped her upper arm. “ Do your need a Coke or a glass of water?’

“No. I’m all right. Let me get through this.”

“Sure. Take your time, sweetheart.”

“Let’s see where was I? Oh, yeah. He would usually slap her around, too. He’s a mean drunk.

He eventually knocked her up, and I was born in 1962.”

“The only blessing from that horrible mess.”

“Did I tell you I love you, Carol?”

“You did, and I love you.”

“Okay, it got terrible after I was born. Frankly, I always imagined Bodine impregnating gullible women in ports of call over half the fucking world.” She paused again.

Carol suggested, “At least let me get you a Dixie Cup of water from the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

Carol returned with the paper cup. Therese drank it down. “Thanks.”

Carol took the cup and dropped it in her empty coffee mug. She took Therese’s hand.

Another neighborhood chainsaw started up. Therese peered into the crystalline expanse. She picked up where she had left off. “Bodine got to where he would drop in on Momma less and less frequently. But, goddammit, Carol, he always beat her really hard. I don’t remember any of that time, of course, but she told me about it. I guess she put up with it because he always gave her a stack of cash and more drugs. She began to lose her looks. The bars didn’t want her anymore. Finally, she’d had enough and accepted the invitation of a friend from Birmingham. That gal had been a dancer, too, but she had moved to Birmingham earlier and was working as a waitress at an upscale restaurant. She got Momma hired on there and had us move in with her. They split the rent and utilities. The woman was sweet. I remember her. I called her Auntie Lou. In 1974, Lou died of cervical cancer.”

“Oh, Therese. That’s horrible. She was like a real aunt to you, wasn’t she?”

“More so.”

Carol scooted next to Therese and held her for a moment.

“Momma was crushed. The thing is, Lou had actually purchased a life insurance policy and made Momma the beneficiary. Momma was clean at the time and had ten grand in the bank. Carol, we had a future. I loved my school in Birmingham. I usually made straight A’s.”

“No doubt.”

“Then Bodine showed up. It was a horror movie, Carol. From all his drunken gibberish, I got that he had been fired from the Swedish maritime service and was left high and dry in New Orleans. His plan was to find us, force Momma to marry him, and then parlay that into a U. S. citizenship.

I told her to call the police. She was too scared. I was going to, but he grabbed me, jerked the phone cord out of the wall, and locked me in a closet. I was in there for two hours listening to him rape and beat Momma. Carol, I swear to you that she never quit yelling, ‘I won’t marry you!’ She was proud. She fought back hard.”

Carol grabbed the bedside box of tissues and pulled out a handful for Therese then herself.

“It got quiet, finally. I fell asleep. At some point, Momma opened the door and whispered. ‘C’mon, Therese …’ Momma named me Jitka Therese Belivet, all Czech names. Her name was Jitka, so she called me by my middle name. Momma said, ‘C’mon, Therese. He’s passed out. Let’s sneak out and run away to the police station.’ But he woke up, Carol. Bodine knocked her down with a closed fist to her nose then he slammed me into the wall. That knocked the breath out of me. I lay there fighting for a breath as he knelt on top of her and punched her one last time with all his might in her temple. That’s when I went to the kitchen and got the butcher knife. I was too late. I couldn’t save my Momma.”

Therese broke down, and Carol wasn’t far from it. Carol rocked her, repeating, “My poor, poor, love. My poor, poor, girl …”

After several minutes and half of the box of Kleenexes, Therese started again, “Bodine was in with a Cajun Gang of drug dealers, and they had connections to some Redneck Mafia thugs in Birmingham. They had cops in their pockets and well paid crooked lawyers. They all got together and painted a picture of it all being me. Despite the bleeding hole in his gut, he managed to inject me with heroin and get me committed to a mental health facility. I never saw him again until that photograph. I guess he’s in with the Southern Mafia or started his own mob … trying to move that crack shit into Sally.”

“We’ll deal with him, Love. How did they railroad you?”

“Carol, nobody would listen to me. Finally, I went crazy with rage. That’s when they strapped me to a bed wearing a fucking diaper and locked me away. I quit fighting and vowed never to talk to any of them again. Well, that’s how I fought back. It drove the shrinks crazy, but it didn’t help my case. Finally, the State of Alabama went on a budget meltdown, and they kicked my ass out into the foster care program. I chewed up foster homes like peanuts.” She grew silent.

“So, that’s when you ended up on the streets … at sixteen?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you end up in Sally?”

“For two years, I took any kinda dirty job I could find to buy food. I stayed in shelters, alleys, the backs of abandoned cars, and empty buildings. I found this little group of punker runaways. They accepted me as one of their own and took me in. We were like a family. Everybody hated us, and we hated them back. Dannie and Phil McElroy had got into the punk scene in Sally. As you can imagine, it wasn’t much of a scene.”

Carol laughed.

“They came down for a Dead Kennedys and Ramones doubleheader at the Jefferson County Civic Center. My family had put everything we had into getting tickets. We tore it up. Phil and Dannie were rockin’ with us at the concert. They were hitting on me until I told them I only fuck girls. With the pressure off, the three of us fell in love … you know, like brothers and sisters. They hung with us that whole weekend. They talked me into coming back to Sally with them. I was tickled to see some other place … any place.”

“They must be special guys.”

“They are pathetic … nah, I’m kiddin’ … you’re right, they are exceptional guys. They introduced me to their Uncle Drag, and he permitted them to let me move into his rental house with them.”

“Dragan Armansky is their uncle?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“Never, angel lady.”

“You.”

"Armansky took a shine to me. I’m as much a mule as he is. He gave me special jobs at his agency that nobody else would tackle or could tackle. Each was like a test. I nailed them all … right down to the ground. He had one of his guys show me how to use all his fancy photographic and surveillance equipment. I was soon doing a better job than any of his high paid detective pricks. I’ve probably made the bitches around here more alimony than Fiona Shackleton. Armansky helped me clean up my legal situation, too. He obtained my berth certificate and took me to successfully test for a driver's license. I owe him, Carol."

“That dude, the equipment geek, is the only one at Your Security that likes me besides Armansky. I don’t even know his real name. Everyone calls him Plague. He’s six-seven and weighs way over 300 pounds. Nobody fucks with him. I’ve drug him along with me on some assignments for protection. He’s as gentle as a lamb, but the intimidation factor is huge.”

“My!”

“Yeah. It’s sad, really. Plague is shy. I doubt if he’s ever been laid. He has a crush on me. If I were ever going to give some dude a sympathy fuck, it would be him.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m kidding. Can you imagine? He’d crush me like a cricket. Well, I could bounce around on top of him, I guess. ‘Thar he blows!’” Therese howled, seeing how laughingly upset Carol was getting.

“Stop! Stop! Therese, I can’t handle the visual imagery.”

Therese reached over and tickled Carol.

Carol relented and laughed with her imp. It was marvelous to see the cloud lifting from Therese.

Therese suggested, “I’m getting cold by this window. Let’s go back downstairs. We can watch an old Christmas movie and cuddle in Mouse.”

“I like the way you think, Honey Puss.”

“Goddam, Carol, don’t get me started again. Save it for tonight. Abby will probably drop back by this afternoon looking to kick my tiny ass.”

“Okay,” Carol said as they stood and headed downstairs. “But you could take her, Therese. She’s all bluster.”

“Ya, right. All bluster? Isn’t she the boss of like 200 people?”

“I guess so, but when you’ve been between a gal’s legs—”

“Ew! Shut the fuck up, Carol! You're my girl, now!”

“Gotcha back!”

Carol went to the kitchen to start a load of laundry. Therese saw a man in Carol’s vinca with a chainsaw. She went to the window and rapped on it.

He looked at her.

Therese raised her hands in a “What the fuck, dude?” gesture.

He waved to her, motioning for her to come out.

Carol returned to the living room.

Therese reported, “Hey, Carol. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre guy is in your front yard.”

“What?” Carol glanced out the window and grunted, “Oh, it’s fucking Richard.”

“The gym guy you mentioned?”

“Uh-huh!”

Carol stepped out on the porch. “Hi, Richard! Whatcha doing?”

“Afternoon, Mrs. Aird! I got this new chain saw last week, and I’m dying to try it out. Can I cut this limb up? I’ll be careful and not hurt any more of your vinca than is necessary.”

She imagined a little boy with his new toy. “Well, I don’t know.”

“Do you have a fireplace? I’ll cut it up in fireplace sized pieces and stack them on your back porch.”

She thought about cuddling with Therese in front of the glowing embers. “What about all the other smaller limbs?”

“No, problem. I’ll get ’em all. My gym is closed. I need the exercise.”

“Okay, but be careful.”

“All right!”

“When he finished, Carol went out to thank him. “You did great, Richard! How much do I owe you?”

“Aw-naw, Mrs. Aird. I owe you. That was a hoot!”

“Well, thanks.”

“Your welcome, Ma’am.”

Carol noticed that the young man seemed to be considering whether or not to ask her something. She waited patiently. At least she’d put her parka on this time.

Richard, an inveterate busy body, had asked anyone he could at the gym about Carol Aird. He knew she had tragically lost her little girl and ex-husband in a car accident. “Hey, was that cute girl in your window like a niece or something?”

Carol decided to have some fun. “No, she’s a friend.”

“Is that her motorcycle?”

“Yes, she parked it in my barn last night to keep it safe.”

“So, she’s your friend?”

“Yes, my girlfriend.”

“Oh … OH! Well, that’s cool. Hey, I say live and let live. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Thank you, I agree.”

“Sure, I guess I’ll—”

“Yoo-hoo, yoo-hoo!” Genevieve Cranell was calling from across the street. “Richard? Would you do that to my limb? I’d be in your debt forever. I can’t get a tree man on the phone. I guess they’re covered up.”

“Sure thing, Miss Cranell! I’m all over it! Do you want the wood?”

“Pardon, me, darlin'?”

Carol was in pain, trying to keep from laughing.

“The wood … after I cut it up. If you don’t want it, I’ll bring it over here for Mrs. Aird.”

“Oh … no, I had them seal my chimney up. Too many damned birds nested in it. Yes, give Carol the wood.”

All this was literally being yelled. Therese, with Patty in her arms, had been listening to all of it from the living room couch. She was rolling.

Always the southern lady, Genevieve called out to Carol. “Hi, Carol! Y’all doin’ okay over there?”

“We are. Quite well, thank you. How about you and Toby?” Toby was her giant Persian cat.

“We’re good. But Toby hides when the chainsaws are buzzin’!”

“It is a scary sound.”

“Absolutely. Hey, call me sometime.”

“Oh, I will. I promise.”

“I’ll hold ya to it. Bye-bye, Carol. Thanks, Richard!”

“Bye, Vivy!” hollered Carol.

Richard took a step towards Genevieve’s, then stopped and turned. “Wait a minute. Is Mrs. Cranell … uh …?”

“Yes, she is, sweetie.”

“Dang! I live on Lovely Lesbian’s Lane!”

“Don’t say that too loud, Richard; you’ll lower the property values.”

“Oh … wait … you’re pulling my leg, right?”

“Yeah, I guess these tree limbs are the only ‘wood’ you’ll be giving any gals on this block.”

Richard took a second to catch up. “Hilarious, Mrs. Aird.”

Carol chuckled.

He turned and patted off with his shiny new toy, shaking his head in wonderment.

Carol had heard Therese laughing.

Upon Carol's return, Therese gibed, “I don’t know ‘Mrs. Aird’ I think you're passing up some mighty nice wood out there.”

“Was that not the living end?”

Therese giggled while vigorously scratching Patty’s chest and belly. The hound, sprawled on her back with all fours in the air, was way too happy, Carol thought. “Well, Honey Puss. I’m freezing now. Come upstairs and warm me up.”

Therese chuckled, “Patty, I guess you can crawl up in Mouse for a while. I’ve got to go pleasure the lady of the house.”

Patty hopped down and shook off. Therese darted to and past Carol. She was up the stairs in a flash. As Carol climbed the stairs, she heard the waterbed _swoosh_. “Dammit, Therese! I said no jumping.”

“Hey, Lady. You better hurry so that I can jump you!”

Carol took the last six steps two at a time.


	9. Green Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/NGya2JX)   
> 

The temperature hovered around freezing all Tuesday long. An afternoon sun melted some of the glazed roads and caused the flora’s icy coating to drip, but all began to refreeze as the sun dipped below the horizon. Carol had walked across the street earlier to use Genevieve’s phone, but hers was out, as was the case with Richard’s.

Richard reported that his afternoon reconnoiter found two phone crews working in their neighborhood. One of the men told him that every able-bodied South Central Bell lineman was in the field. They had trucks dispersed across the Valley. In many cases, the phone crews worked hand in hand with city and county tree trimming personnel. “Some of the big oaks on Covenant Avenue have dropped limbs on the street. It’s impassable right now.”

Phil was on days at the foundry; Dannie was now on nights. Dannie “slid” by before his shift to check on Therese. She had added Carol’s address to the note she left for them on Monday. He was apprehensive knocking on the door. Carol answered, and as soon as he identified himself, she hugged him. His heart was in the charmer’s hand in minutes. Therese had been showering. Upon entering the living room, she was thrilled to find him, Coke in hand, chatting with Carol. He laughed at her attire; she wore stylish jeans and an oxford of Carol’s. The jeans were a bit loose, and the length required a double cuff.

He had teased, “Where’s your camera?”

She had replied, “No fucking way, dude!”

Carol remarked, “You look adorable.”

Upon leaving for work, Dannie promised to catch Phil at the shift change and tell him Therese was “safe and warm.”

As the light faded, Smoot dropped off Abby. “Hi, Goose. I’ve got a folder full of the information you ordered from research and a sack full of Dobson’s slaw dogs. Smoot is going to be running folks around all evening. He can pick me up later. Can we talk?”

“Of course, darling. Come in.”

Abby waved to Smoot, and he eased away from the curb with an approving grin.

Carol took the sauce stained brown paper bag and hugged her. Abby placed the file on Carol’s living room desk.

Carol called out as she put the food on the kitchen island, “Therese, Abby is here. She brought Dobson Dogs!

Therese had just finished touching up her hair. She did not dance down the stairs this time. Therese paused and took a deep breath at the bottom.

Abby glanced at both women then returned her gaze to Therese. “I want to apologize to both of you. I was horrible.”

Carol spoke, “Abby, it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not okay, Carol.” Abby shifted to Carol. “My only excuses are the storm and my surprise at finding you with a look in your eyes I haven’t seen in years.”

“And the feelings you still have for Carol,” added Therese.

Abby stared at Therese, thinking, _Who is this woman?_ Carol’s friend and lover could not deny it. “That’s true, Therese.”

Patty’s big paws _clomped_ down the stairs, then she entered, wagging her tail, excited by Abby’s presence. Abby patted the dog’s head, and after an awkward silence, she looked at Carol. “And I’m jealous, Carol.”

“Of my happiness?”

“I guess so … oh, I don’t know … everything. You’ve found this enchanting creature and bonded with her. I can feel it. I can see it.”

“What can I do, Abby?”

“That’s why I’m here. Carol, I have no claim on you. I’m sorry for saying those catty things this morning. We haven’t had sex in years, Therese. Carol, I still love you deeply as my most special friend in the whole world. I want you to be happy. Enjoy each other. Eat each other up, dammit. Have fun!”

The three of them came together and hugged. After a moment Abby, exclaimed, “Okay, let’s watch the evening news, eat slaw dogs, and make fun of the politicians.”

They filled tall glasses with ice and Mountain Dew, then gathered in the living room. Abby wanted to know this new love of her friend. She went out of her way to engage Therese and concentrate on her responses. Abby was surprised by the “wild child’s” intelligence and base of knowledge. Abby liked her.

As the news finished, Carol remarked, “Abby, Therese freelances for Armansky.”

“Really?”

“Yes, she’s the one who photographed the drug deal.”

“My goodness. That’s impressive, Therese.”

“Well, it was luck.”

“I’m sure there was more than luck involved.”

Carol decided the time was right. “Abby, Therese, and I have discussed this, and I’d like Therese to work for us.”

“Well, Carol, you know how the board has HR screen everyone. It might be difficult to—”

“I’m not talking about hiring her. You have full say on our contractors.”

“Oh, okay … freelance.”

“Yes.”

“What do you girls have in mind?”

“Therese has some new information that we are not ready to talk about. I’ve learned my lesson about verification. Would you be okay if we delve deeper into this story, substantiate the facts, and present them to you when we are sure?”

“I’d like progress reports.”

“Of course, but they’ll be vague, Abby. This is sticky stuff. I don’t want you at risk.”

“Jesus! How sticky? I’m not going to see you two get hurt.”

“Oh, Abby, we’ll be careful.”

Abby fixed her gaze on Therese. “Jimmy Olsen, I want to hear what you think about all this; Lois Lane over here has been doing all the talking.”

Therese nervously cleared her throat. “Well, it’s what I do. I know how to stay out of trouble. Most importantly, it’s an opportunity for me to right an old wrong. And, Abby, I think it’s bigger than what we think. That’s only based on a feeling I have, but my feelings have got me through some tight spots.”

“I’d love to hear your story, young lady.” Abby saw Therese anxiously glance at Carol. “But some other time, perhaps.”

Therese was washed in relief. She was not up to another biography at this point.

Abby reached for the pen and pad Carol always kept on her desk. She passed them to Therese. “Write down what Dragan pays you.”

Therese hesitated a moment, then jotted down a couple of lines. She passed the pad and pen back to Abby.

Abby studied the information for a minute. “That old tightwad! I’ll pay you double that and add $10 a day for expenses. It doesn’t look like you eat much, and that Kawasaki you mentioned doesn’t burn much gas.”

Therese held out her hand. Abby shook it then said, “Cool. Come by when you’re ready, and I’ll see that someone provides you with our contractor application.”

Therese smirked, “Oh, I eat all the time … whatever I want. I have a high metabolism; I can’t gain weight.”

Abby sighed, “And just when I thought I liked you, Therese.” They laughed. Then Abby glanced at Carol. “I want one.”

“You’ll have to find your own, Duck.”

Smoot came by later and picked up Abby. Carol and Therese dove into the research material Abby had brought.

At ten, the couple turned out the lights and climbed the stairs. They still heard chain saws and generators running in the distance.


	10. Outs and Ins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/qH34ogQ)  
>  Patty curled up in mouse.
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/SIT3XNQ)  
> Stairway to heaven.

“Therese, you need to think this through, girl.”

“You don’t understand, Phil.”

“I’m tryin’, but you’re not giving me much to work with!”

“It’s simple. I love her, and she loves me. Carol asked me to move in with her, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“But you hardly know her.”

“I know her better than anyone.”

Dannie sneered, “Nice.”

Dannie, give me a break, dude; you met her.”

“I did, and she seems like a good person, but—

“But nuthin, Dannie. I wish you two would fuckin' be happy for me.”

Phil barked, “You’re in a trance!”

“Fuck you, Phil! I’m wide-awake! I’ve never been more awake in my life. Why don’t y’all leave me alone?”

“What the hell, Therese? Are you kicking us out of your life over this crush on some rich bitch?”

Therese clenched her fists in rage. “Phil McElroy, I should break your nose for calling her … well, you know how I despise that word. And she’s not rich. Carol inherited that house. She works hard for a living just like us.”

“That said, I haven’t seen you workin’ very hard lately, Rez.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Phil?” She glanced at one then the other.

Dannie knew his brother’s remark was mean and across the line; he shifted his eyes to the window.

Phil grumbled incoherently and stomped out the kitchen door. He jumped from the porch into the soggy back yard then fumbled for a cigarette from his shirt pocket. The thawing ice had turned their scant lawn into mush.

Therese fumed, “Is that all ya got, McElroy? What was that you said?” Getting no response from the fleeing friend, she turned to Dannie. “Dannie, why is he so mad? I don’t understand.”

“We love you, Therese. You’re our sister. You know how he hates change.”

“I guess so, and I realize how fast this seems.”

“Do you, Therese?”

She finished packing the last of her sundries and snapped the vinyl bag shut. “I guess I only see and feel it from my side. Honestly, Dannie, it’s like the stars have aligned for a minute, and if I don’t act, I may never get this chance again.”

“C’mon, Therese … you’re twenty-one, not forty-one.”

“Carol’s not that old.”

“That’s not what I was referring to. I meant you are young and will have a lot of chances in life.”

“Twenty-one?” she softly asked.

“Yeah, we remembered yesterday that Monday was your birthday. Since it’s Thursday and we both randomly had the day off, we were going to take you to Momma Beck’s.”

Therese slumped down on her chair. “Hen and dressing day.”

“Yep, with coconut cream pie for dessert.” Dannie stepped over to his bedroom, shuffled around, and returned with a colorful package that the two men had obviously wrapped themselves. “We were going to give you this at lunch.” He placed it in her lap.

They heard the screen door creak and saw Phil step into the hall.

“Get in here, fuck head; Therese is going to open her gift.”

Phil wiped his eyes, snorted, and sniffed as he approached her doorway. “I’m sorry, Therese, but I’m still mad at you.”

She smiled at Phil. He responded by growling, “Well, go ahead. Open it!”

Therese tore the paper from the heavy bundle.

“Whatcha think, Ms. Badass?” asked Phil.

“Oh, guys! This is the one from London Threads.”

Dannie grinned, “Well, I don’t know how many damn times I’ve seen you pull it off the rack and try it on. I was afraid that crow of a manager was going to start charging you rent. Phil picked it up just before they closed yesterday evening.”

Phil proclaimed, “We wrapped it ourselves.”

Therese glanced again at the Sunday funny paper her men had used and cried, “I love it.” She stood leaving the coat in the bank chair and pulled them both to her with fierce neck hugs. “And I love you both more than words can express. I can’t imagine my life without you jerks.”

Dannie coughed to clear his throat, then insisted, “Try it on!”

Therese slipped on the petite black leather jacket. It fit her like a glove. She spread her arms and spun for them to judge.

Phil belted, “Goddamn, girl! You are too hot! Open a window, Dannie.”

Therese suddenly recalled the garment’s price. “Holy shit! This thing cost almost a month's rent.”

Dannie countered, “It’s worth it to see you in it, Dragon Girl.”

Phil commanded, “Wear it to lunch at Momma Beck’s. That is if you can spare the time.”

She punched his shoulder. “I got the time, smartass.”

“Good!”

“Well, okay! Let’s go, little boys!”

“Aw-naw, that just ain’t gonna fly?”

“It’ll have to, and after hen and dressing, y’all can help me move my shit over to Carol’s.”

“Damn, Bro Dan, we should have just told her adios and let the door hit her in the ass.”

Dannie smirked, “Not that fine ass. It would be a crime against humanity.”

*****

Carol had interviewed friends, family, and business associates of the now incarcerated Blake Hughes all day long. The interactions ranged from worthless to okay. She got home tired and frustrated at six. A bolt of energy traveled the length of her when she saw Therese waving at her from the back yard. Her girlfriend was transferring Patty from the staked lead to her leash.

Carol raced to her loves and hustled them inside. Therese and Carol locked into one another with a delicious kiss and tight embrace. Carol saw a cardboard box on the kitchen floor. “You did it!”

Therese flashed the dimples excitedly with an adorable smile.

“How did it go?”

“It started off rocky, but love conquers all, and they do indeed still love me.”

“Oh, Therese. I’m thrilled, but I bet they hate me.”

“Nah, I sold you to ‘em at lunch. They took me to Momma Beck’s for my birthday.”

“They remembered?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Damn, hen and dressing Thursday! I’m jealous.”

Therese chuckled, “And they gave me a super cool jacket.”

“I’ve got to see it.”

“It’s in here.” Therese had the coat folded over the back of Carol’s sumptuous leather couch

“Therese! I love it. They do love you. I’ve seen one like that at London Threads.”

“This is it.”

Carol opened her mouth wide in a silent gasp with her eyes popping. She turned Therese around and slipped the waist-length coat on her lover. She tugged the arms down then patted the shoulders then spun Therese back to face her. “Darling, that is to die for, and you look … let’s see … is it ‘awesome’?”

Therese collapsed backward on the couch, laughing. It took Patty off guard and made her bark.

Carol curled up beside Therese and closed her long fingers around Therese’s upper arm. She gently squeezed and massaged the supple leather and the firm little muscles within. Therese asked her about her day. Carol told her all about it, and Therese took in every word.

After the events of the day were shared, they grew silent for a minute. Patty had crawled up on the couch. Her head rested on Carol’s hip. Therese caressed the dog’s therapeutically soothing ear. “Carol, we haven’t said a thing about it, but Christmas is Sunday.”

“Yes.” She sighed and stared at the far wall. “You must think me a Scrooge for not having a trace of the holiday in the house.”

“I do not … it’s Rindy and Harge, right?”

Carol nodded while blinking her moistening eyes. She murmured, “We can put something up … for you.”

“No, I prefer we don’t; Christmas reminds me of Momma. She was killed on my birthday, the 19th. That’s bad enough, and then, six days later, Christmas hits me; it’s a double whammy.”

“I bet you don’t even want any supper after that big midday meal.”

“Honestly, I don’t. I have no appetite for food.”

“I’m not hungry, either. We’ll unpack your things and get you squared away this weekend. Right now, let’s go fuck away our blues.”

“Take me to bed, pretty lady.”

*****

Therese departed at the same time as Carol on Friday morning, a quarter-to-eight. While not the case in the county, Sally’s roads were clear, and the city’s residents had their power and telephone services restored. Carol headed downtown in her Bronco while Therese took the Kawasaki out on Circular Road.

Therese was going to play a hunch on this chilly, blue-skied day. She wore ugly but practical camouflaged coveralls. Obviously a fast-growing boy’s hunting garment, she picked them up for next to nothing at a yard sale the year before. The insulated Carhartts made such a wintry mission far less painful.

On a whim, in 1982, Therese and her boys decided it was time they experienced flight. They paid an instructor at the local airport ten bucks apiece to take them on a sightseeing spin of the greater Sally area. An isolated strip of concrete in the neighboring county caught their attention. The pilot informed them that it was a closed airfield built in World War II. He explained that the urgent need for pilots spurred the construction of such airfields all over the country. This one was fenced off and unmanned. He took a shine to the enthusiastic Triad; they were elated when he set the Cessna down on the runway.

On this day, Therese was going to see if the field was still there, and if possible, poke around. She pulled her bike into a thicket then carefully approached the west side of the ghostly installation. The fence had not been maintained; Therese found a compromised section near the “United States Government Property - No Trespassing” sign.

Therese saw evidence of takeoffs and landings on the surface, such as skid marks and fresh-looking litter: empty cans and candy wrappers. She walked from one end of the runway to the other. Just before she headed for the gap in the fence, an object on the runway caught her eye. She took a Kleenex from her pocket and picked up the two-inch-long cigar butt. She pried apart the leaves and examined the tobacco. Its aroma was unmistakable, Cuban. Coincidental, perhaps, but Bodine always smoked Cubans. The Swedish seafarer always stocked up on them when he made port in Havana. Besides his own use, he gifted them to his U.S. drug dealer cronies to further gain their favor. Therese wrapped up the butt in the tissue and pocketed it to show Carol.

*****

Returning from a staff meeting, Carol had no sooner sat down at her desk than her phone rang.

“Carol Aird.”

“Carol, Armansky here.”

“Good morning, Drag.”

“Same to you.”

“May I help you?”

“You move fast.”

“What?” she stalled, hoping he was not upset over her relationship with Therese.

“Therese called me yesterday and informed me that she was moving out of my rental house. When I asked her where she was moving to, she said she would let me know in a day or two. I called my nephews this morning; Phil McElroy told me that Therese moved in with you.”

“That’s true.”

“Look, I well know of Therese’s sexual orientation. I have grown comfortable with that. However, I can’t say that about her relationship with you.”

Carol controlled her anger, “Why do you feel that way, Drag?”

“You are older, Carol, a well known and influential person. Therese is an outlier … a vulnerable one. I fear a dalliance resulting in her being used then cast aside.”

It dawned on Carol that she might as well have been talking to a concerned father. She respected that and recalled the kind feelings Therese held for Armansky. Carol took a deep breath while considering her response.

“Are you there, Carol.”

“Yes. Look, Drag, I was tempted to tell you to fuck off, but I know that you care for Therese, and she cares for you. She respects you because you trusted her and gave her opportunities when no one else would.”

“Well—”

“No, let me finish. Even though she is a consenting adult and has every right to live her life as she pleases, I owe it to you to affirm my intentions. Therese is a most special woman. As odd as you may perceive our partnership, I assure you, with no hesitation, that I love that precious creature with all of my heart. I would never hurt her. I would die first. I want to protect and nourish her. I’m committed to seeing her grow and reach her full potential as an intelligent and wonderful person. If you can’t accept all that, then I suggest we revert to my first thought.”

There was silence from Armansky’s end of the line.

“Armansky, are you there?”

“Uh, yes. I have obviously misread the situation.”

“I’ll say. But I see how one could … especially, one that cares for Therese.”

“Carol, can the three of us meet for coffee. Perhaps at Hatter tomorrow morning at ten?”

“That would be lovely, Drag. I will have to check with her, though.”

“Of course. Once again, I apologize, Carol.”

“Apology accepted. Everything’s fine, Drag. I’ve always had the greatest respect for you as a person and businessman.”

“Thank you. So, you will let me know?”

“Frankly, Drag, just assume we will be there. We’ll only contact you if she has some conflict.”

“Excellent. I know you must be busy at the moment; I will say goodbye.”

“Have a nice day, Drag. Bye-bye.”


	11. Niedermann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/Zr2J3T0)  
>  Beignets!

Armansky and Therese had never hugged. Therese could not remember if they had ever shaken hands. She and Carol entered Hatter at five-to-nine on Saturday, December 24, 1983. The fastidious Dragan Armansky was already there and had secured a table, fortuitous on this busy Christmas Eve morning at the popular spot. Armansky stood and gentlemanly helped them with their coats and chairs.

Glenn McElroy, another uncle of the boys’, started Hatter in 1979. Formerly, it was a bakery, Great Donuts. The owners were driven into near bankruptcy when Sally’s chain groceries added in-store bakeries. Glenn wisely retained the seasoned head dough puncher and his most popular recipes. The building was remodeled; a coffee counter with stools and ten tables were added. The veteran baker had apprenticed in New Orleans in the 1950s. The former owners hobbled the chef; they forbade any new menu items, but Glenn did. Beignets and café au lait were a hit. Sally was a college town, plus it had a large population of retired plant workers with cozy pensions and medical insurance. In the last decade, an army of yuppie service industry workers had moved to Sally to medicate, bank, and pamper the aging populace. Glenn picked the name Hatter because his daughter thought it sounded “cool.” Between the college kids and the trendy thirty-somethings, Hatter was covered up Monday through Saturday from seven in the morning to three in the afternoon.

Armansky liked the spot because the food was excellent, and more importantly, he always supported family. The fact that he was an investor in Hatter was no small matter either.

Carol noticed the water glass in front of him. “Drag, you didn’t have to wait to order.”

He smiled with a shrug. “Good morning, Carol.” Armansky surprised Therese when he affectionately squeezed her hand. “Therese, you look … uh—”

“Happy?” suggested Carol.

“Yes … very happy.”

Therese blushed a bit then murmured, “I am. How are Elise and your kids?”

“They are fine. Loud, but fine.”

The women chuckled.

The waitress came with waters for Therese and Carol. She offered menus. Armansky chimed, “How about beignets and café au lait all around, ladies?”

Carol and Therese unhesitatingly nodded.

The waitress departed with her menus.

“Therese, is that a new coat?”

“It is. Phil and Dannie gave it to me for my birthday.”

“You certainly bring out the best in those two. It’s very sharp.”

“Thank you.”

“Speaking of your birthday, I’ve had this all week hoping to catch you. So, happy belated birthday!” He pulled a small envelope from the inside of his sport coat and handed it to her.”

Therese opened it and removed a tiny, elegant card. She read the gold printing on the front. “Happy Twenty-First,” and on the inside, “May the next one hundred years be rich and full of joy!” It was signed, “All the best, Armansky,” in her employer’s polished hand. A folded piece of paper had dropped to the table when Therese opened the card. She picked it up, glanced and it, and told him, “Thank you.”

Drag chuckled, “I know you like to read. So …”

Therese proudly handed both the card and certificate to Carol.

Carol smiled, “That’s beautiful, Drag, and a fifty-dollar gift certificate to Books on Court. Wow!”

Therese stood and stepped to him, then embarrassed Armansky with a side hug.

They enjoyed the coffee and sugar-coated fritters. Armansky avoided talk of Christmas as he was aware of Therese’s history with the day.

Therese asked if he minded her doing some work for the paper? He replied, “You are an independent contractor and can do as your wish, but thank you for asking me.”

Therese noticed a man staring their way twice. He sat at a corner table nursing a large coffee but eating nothing. He was a large blonde with broad shoulders and massive hands. Their eyes met on her second glance at him. Shortly thereafter, he stood and strode from the shop, leaving a five-dollar bill on the table. It was not until he stood that she realized his size. He was a giant standing at least six-six and weighing close to 300 pounds. The weight was all bone and muscle.

After he exited, Therese asked, “Did y’all notice that big fella?”

They nodded.

Armansky commented, “He must be from out of town. I have never seen him before.” The security man prided himself on knowing everyone in Sally. While an impossible task, he worked at it.

Carol added, “I saw him on Thursday. He was walking out of the pharmacy on Court. Hard to miss.”

“Well, he was looking at us. It made me uneasy.”

Armansky teased, “It is your piercings.”

Therese scolded him with a tap on his hand.

Carol was glad Therese had Armansky in her life. He was a stalwart friend.

Therese glanced outside, hoping to catch another glimpse of the blonde giant. No, he was gone leaving Therese with a strange sense of connection to the stranger.

*****

Ronald Niedermann left Hatter and walked briskly to his Audi 5000 parked around the corner. He had followed Armansky that morning. He now felt it best to shift his attention to these two women.

Niedermann drove around the block and parked one street up on the other side of the empty block where Sears once stood. He could observe Hatter’s entrance clearly from this vantage point without being noticed.

Niedermann was amused by these Alabamians’ excitement over their recent cold snap. Having grown up near Hamburg on the Baltic, he well knew the cold. He turned on the car’s radio and listened to the news “at the top of the hour.” After the news, he turned off the radio and reflected on his subjects. The three had chatted for an hour. He was out of earshot for their conversation, but he noted that Amansky had gifted the strange looking girl a card and said, “Happy Birthday.”

The other woman was striking. She is the kind of woman he always yearned for but could never attract, beautiful and classy with bearing. On the other hand, the girl angered him for some mysterious reason, and it wasn’t just the punker cut and piercings. No, there was something strangely familiar about her. He hated her.

Niedermann was anxious as he waited. He could only tail the women for part of the day. Niedermann had to meet his “Papa um vier Uhr.”

Niedermann sighed with relief when the two women came out with Armnasky. Armansky walked to his Cadillac. Niedermann was amused when he saw the females get into an old Ford Bronco.

They drove to Court Street and parked on the middle block of the downtown street’s seven blocks. They had been lucky to find the open spot on Christmas Eve. He had to circle. On the first circle, he saw the women enter a bookstore. On the second, he saw an old man shuffle to his pickup truck door. Niedermann waited impatiently for the codger to start his vehicle, back out, and ease away. Niedermann parked and waited. He could see the bookstore and the Bronco.

It was almost an hour before the women emerged from the book vendor. The girl carried a weighty cloth book bag of red and green. The stately blonde stopped to window shop twice. The women’s frequent laughter and grinning exchanges aggravated Niedermann. Finally, they reached the ugly blue 4X4, backed out, and headed north. He followed judiciously. Niedermann had great pride in his ability to tail someone. He had learned from the best, sein vater.

After only one block, the women turned west, traveled for two blocks, then resumed a northern course on Wood Avenue, traveling a half-mile. They turned east again for one block, then north a half-block to park in the driveway of a white, frame two-story house. Niedermann had pulled up at the curb of a small public playground; he sank low in his seat. The women exited the Bronco and walked slowly across the yard. They joined hands when pausing to examine shrubbery. After a brief conversation and yet more smiles, they sauntered to the porch, unlocked the door, and entered the house. They were not friends. They were lovers. He growled to himself, “Lesbishen huren.” Now he hated the blonde as well.

A few minutes later, he saw them appear in the backyard. He could not see all of the space, but a hillbilly-looking dog occasionally danced into view. Niedermann took especial note of _der Hund_. Dogs can be problematic. The couple and their pet played in the yard for fifteen minutes, then went back into the house. Niedermann saw no sign of them for the remainder of his allotted time. At half-past-three, he backed up so as not to pass the women’s house. After a three point turn, he drove back to town, crossed the Tennessee River, and drove south until he reached a mini-estate on the south side of Sally’s southern neighbor, Boon Town, Alabama.

Niedermann entered the house and called, “Papa?”

“In here, Ronald.”

Niedermann found Karl Axel Bodine prostrate on the den’s sofa.

Bodine hissed, “Speak English, boy; you need the practice.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“What happened today?”

“I followed Armansky ever since he left his residence this morning. He met two women at a kaffeestube … uh, sorry, Daddy, a coffee shop.”

“Hatter?”

“Yes, Sir! You know it?”

“I do. What happened next?”

“I gambled and chose to follow the women instead of Armansky.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Are you mad at me, Papa?”

“No, dammit! Don’t be such a fucking pussy. I just want to know why you transferred the tail from Armansky to these women.”

“Oh … well, I had a feeling. I went with my gut.”

“Describe these women.”

“They are dykes living in a Victorian house about a mile north of downtown Sally. One is a blonde, possibly five-seven. She could be a model or actress. Gorgeous.”

“Don’t come in your pants, boy. Tell me about the other one.”

“She is zierlich … uh, petite. She looks like a punk whore with black hair and many piercings. I took photographs of them in their yard with the telephoto. I dropped the film at the one-hour processing kiosk in Boon Town. I will run back out and get the developed photos in a little while; they don’t close until five-thirty.”

“You did well, my boy. It is good to trust your instincts. We can resume following Armansky on Monday. This reconnaissance of the women might be nothing, but it must be eliminated as a point of interest at some time.” Bodine heard his son’s stomach growl.

“The cook made chili and cornbread at noon before she left for the weekend. You can heat it.”

“Thank you, Daddy. I love Juana’s chili and cornbread. I know you do, son.” Bodine suddenly winced and massaged his stomach.

“Is it a bad day, Papa?”

“It is, Ronald … bring me the milk of magnesia before you heat your food.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Niedermann returned with his photos around six. Bodine sat up on the couch and shuffled through the pics. He paused on one. “Goddam!”

“What, Daddy?”

“Ronald, meet your half-sister,” he said as he passed the photo to Niedermann.

“That little freak is Therese Belivet?”

“Yes. She is the reflection of her mother … well if you take away the metal and add a set of titten. I never thought I would see her again.”

“She has caused you much discomfort, Daddy. May I kill her for you?”

“Patience, my boy. All in good time.”


	12. Heat and Warmth

Carol and Therese returned to their warm kitchen after playing chase with Patty in the back yard. Patty was panting yet still frisky. Carol tossed her a Milk-Bone. Patty carried it to the living room and crunched down the savory treat. Calmed a bit, she returned to the kitchen and drank from the bowl Therese had rinsed and refilled with fresh water.

“Armansky was very nice, don’t you think, Therese?”

“He was. I need to send him a note telling him about all the neat books I purchased.”

“I have some cards in the desk. I’ll show you.”

Therese followed Carol to the desk and watched as Carol pulled out the top right drawer as far as it would go. “There in the back. Here, sit and go through them. I think you’ll find something you like.”

Therese sat in the office chair and plucked through the cards.

Carol went into the den, opened her briefcase, and began reviewing her notes.

Therese selected one of the plainer cards and carefully penned her message to Armansky. She sealed the envelope then addressed it. Therese knew his business and home address by heart. In fact, Therese knew hundreds of addresses by heart. The woman had a photographic memory. She had not told Carol about it, or anybody for that matter. She considered just one more freakish trait that would attract unwanted attention.

“Carol, may I borrow a stamp?”

“No, but you may have one. They’re in the front of that same drawer in a tan envelope.”

Therese immediately spotted it. It was ancient. The letter size envelope’s paper had been handled many times over many years. Its paper was tissue like. She opened it and retrieved a stamp, licked it, and stuck it on her thank you. She had an urge to kid Carol about the tattered envelope but quickly regretted even thinking such. Therese had noticed several such obviously sentimental things in the past week. She adored her love’s idiosyncrasies. They were part of what made Carol special. Therese had the urge to kiss Carol.

Therese placed the card on the foyer table for Monday and stepped into the den. Carol was perched on the edge of the den’s sumptuous leather couch fretting over her pending article.

“Hey, no work today. Let’s put all this away.”

Therese leaned over and neatly returned Carol’s work to her briefcase along with the battle scarred Montblanc pen. Carol weakly protested. Therese chuckled as she slipped the pen in the sleeve where Carol always kept it.

“What?” challenged Carol.

Once again charmed by another of Carol’s artifacts, Therese lied and redirected, “Oh, nothing … did I tell you how much I love your mouth.”

Carol softened but was at a loss for words.

Therese crawled into Carol’s lap and kissed her. Carols mouth was soft and delicious. Therese felt the warmth of arousal rush throughout her core. Carol relaxed and gently embraced Therese. Therese thought, _There ya go. That’s my lady._

After a dozen dreamy kisses, Therese wooed, “With Abby’s dinner tonight, I won’t muss your hair or makeup, but from here down is mine.” She touched Carol’s breast,, and thigh marking said territory. Carol was mesmerized.

Therese took off her jacket then helped Carol squirm out of her brown leather one. Carefully folded, she placed them on the arm of the couch. Therese slipped down to the Asian rug perching on her knees. She unbuckled Carol’s belt then unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans. Therese hooked her fingers on each side of Carol’s waistband and pulled both pants and panties to Carol’s ankles. Carol arched a bit to help her vixen expose the targets of Therese’s obsession.

Therese spread Carol’s knees and scooched into the heavenly “V” created by the journalist’s world-class pair of creamy thighs. Therese gently kissed the inside Carol’s left thigh. She methodically repeated the kisses on a path leading to the freshly shaved apex. Carol had taken advantage of the slow morning.

Carol shook when Therese ran her tongue slowly up Carol’s vulva. Therese immediately withdrew and started over on the right thigh. Carol moaned, “You little imp! I—”

“Shush, now; let me concentrate.”

This time, Therese struck like a viper at the end of its stalk. She made swirling passes up and down Carol’s pink meat. Carol gasped while clutching the shoulders of Therese’s stressed blue jean shirt. Therese was relentless. After unbuttoning Carol’s silky blouse and releasing the front-snap bra, Therese assigned her hands to the perfect pillows while her tongue and lips concentrated on Carol’s clit. Carol could not believe she had never made out in her parent’s den before. It would definitely be a special place from this point forward.

Carol screamed when she came the first time. Patty concernedly whimpered from behind the living room baby gate. Therese called out, “It’s okay, Patty. Your momma‘s fine.”

Carol moaned, “I’ll say Momma’s fine.”

Later, after a series of such explosions, Therese popped up and announced, “I’m going to read for a while. She strolled from the room to check out the new books left in the living room.

“What the fuck? What about you?”

“Oh, I’m good. You can give me my Christmas present after the dinner party.”

Carol felt as limp as a noodle. She sank back into the couch, shaking her head and grinning from ear to ear.

*****

“Rod, you look very handsome tonight,” charmed Carol.

He smiled from his wheelchair and winked at her.

“Rod, this is Therese Belivet, my girlfriend.”

Therese gently squeezed his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Gerhard. Merry Christmas Eve! Carol goes on and on about you and your wife.”

His eyes grew wide, taking in the metaled stunner smiling before his eyes; she had taken a knee in front of him. Therese waited patiently as he murmured, “Nice to meet you, Therese.”

Therese smiled, “I love y’all’s house and garden. You’ve put a lot of time and love into them.”

He nodded.

“Where from?”

“I’m from Birmingham but have lived in Sally for a couple of years.”

Delores Gerhard joined them from the kitchen. “Merry Christmas Eve, Carol. As usual, you are the first to arrive.”

“Well, I thought I might help.”

“Oh, you sweet girl! This time, I think Abby and I have got it all covered.”

“Delores, this is Therese Belivet.”

Delores smiled graciously at Therese and took her hand, pulling her in for an affectionate hug. “Therese, Abby told me about Carol’s new gal. It’s a pleasure to meet you, darlin’!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gerhard. Same here.”

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s Rod and Delores,” chuckled Delores.

Therese nodded, including Rod in the gesture. He uttered, “Yes … Rod.”

Delores commented, “I love that name! ‘Therese’ is so … I don’t know … exotic sounding.”

Therese noticed the hot chocolate, spoon, and cloth napkin in Delores’s hands. “Is that for, Rod? May I help him with it.”

Delores glanced at her husband for confirmation.

He nodded.

“Sure thing, then.” Delores used the spoon to tenderly give him the first sip. She turned to Therese, and asked, “You sure, honey?”

“Yes, Ma’am … me and Mr. Rod got this.”

Abby had slipped a kitchen chair behind Therese. Therese eased down onto the edge of the chair and gingerly took the steaming concoction, napkin, and utensil. “Thanks, Abby.”

Abby stepped back and hugged Carol. “Merry Christmas Eve, Goose.”

“Same, same, Duck. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

They watched Therese serve Abby’s father. An errant drop ran down his chin. Therese giggled, “Oops,” and dabbed it with the napkin. Rod blushed with a grin.

Abby whispered, “And I think I love her, too.”

Carol grasped Abby’s hand and pulled it to her heart.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Delores hurried back to her kitchen.

Carol leaned into Abby and asked, “What all are y’all cooking? It smells delish.”

“We are expecting eight, so we did a turkey and a ham.”

“Both?”

“Friggin A!”

“Do I smell ‘sweet taters’?” joked Carol in her best “kountry.”

“Damn strait, girl!” mocked Abby in response. “An green beans, ‘reglar arsh taters’, and whole kernel corn.”

Carol cackled, “Did you hear that, Therese?”

“I did. It sounds like we’re at the right place.”

“Indeed.”

Carol stepped up behind Therese and gently squeezed her shoulders. Rod winked at Carol.

“Abby, surely I can do something?”

“You can. Come and help me finish setting the dining room table.”

The two chums bounced off to the dining room, leaving Rod and Therese alone. “Rod, Carol told me that you had a private pilot's license.”

He nodded with a questioning look.

“Can you really fly ‘under the radar’?”

Another nod.

She filled the next spoon and began to advance it to his mouth.

He shook his head and raised his eyebrows.

Therese was confused for a minute. _No more hot chocolate … wait … he’s asking why I asked the flying question._ “Oh, why did I ask about the radar?”

He nodded.

She finished serving him the spoonful then answered, “I took my bike out to old Rocker Field yesterday. It looks like you could still take off and land from it all though it’s unmanned.”

He nodded, then managed, “Why?”

“I’m on a case at work that involves drug running. That airfield sure looks like it would be prime for smugglers.”

“He nodded but twisted his mouth with concern.”

“I’ll be careful. It’s a long shot, so it’ll probably amount to nothing.”

Rod relaxed a bit and grinned with the next sip. He surprised Therese asking, “Wha … what bike?”

She chuckled, “Oh, I have a Kawasaki kz440.”

He smirked and nodded approvingly.

“Don’t tell me. You're a bike guy.”

“He grinned.”

“What kind did you have?”

Rod took a deep breath, and with all his will, he clearly pronounced, “Indian.”

“Damn! You had an Indian. What model?”

His eyes were on fire with excitement. Therese took a shot; “Was it a 741?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

Not from World War II?”

He kept nodding.

“Oh, my God!”

Abby entered, asking, “Well, aren't y'all best buds? ‘Oh, my God!’ what?”

“Oh, we were talking about motorcycles.”

“That explains it all. I’m sure he told you about his ‘Baby’?”

“The Indian? Yes, he did.”

“Daddy, can I show it to her.”

“You mean he’s still got it?”

“Are you kidding me, Therese? Is it okay, Daddy?”

Rod nodded.

Carol had joined them. “Here, Therese, I’ll finish the hot chocolate and catch up with Rod. You two go to his shop.”

Ignoring their coats, Abby and Therese sprinted around the garden to a simple frame structure with double doors and a rusty metal roof. “Delores hollered after them. You two, be careful! There’s all kind of sharp stuff in there.”

Abby yelled, “We will, Momma.”

Abby unlocked the padlock, unhitched the latch, and then swung open one of the doors. She flipped on an overhead light. A dusty tarp covered what had to be Rod’s treasure. Therese howled after Abby pulled off the cover. Abby directed, “Hey, while there’s still enough light, let’s roll it out.”

The women double-teamed the old warhorse out into the sunlight. Abby remarked, "Daddy's old motorcycle buddies come by and crank it up at least once a month. They also change the oil and drain the gas every year." 

Therese climbed astride the piece of history; she "grinned like a possum.”

After putting up the bike all nice and tidy, they returned to the house. Carol had rolled Rod to the patio’s French doors so that he could watch Abby and Therese. When they returned he was beaming. Therese hugged him. “Thank you for sharing your classic with me.”

The doorbell rang. Delores proclaimed, “Abby, I bet that's your new friend; the Lovetts and Thompsons are always late.”

Abby darted for the door.

Carol glanced back at Therese with her eyebrows arched. Therese snickered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/uomc96o)  
> A U. S. Army surplus Indian 741 motorcycle
> 
> This chapter originally contained Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It got too long! I divided it into two. The good news is that the next chapter is already half-written.


	13. Jammie Day

Therese rolled over at first light and saw Carol staring at her. “Merry Christmas, Lady.”

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.”

“There! We said it. What’s happening to us, Carol?”

“I don’t know … I feel reborn.”

“Reborn … maybe, so. I’ve never really been in love … I guess.”

“Well, I have, but girl, let me tell ya; this is something off the chart. You make my heart sing, Therese.”

Therese rolled over with her back to Carol and snuggled back into her lover’s arms.

Carol squeezed Therese tightly.

“What time are Abby and Erika coming over?” asked Carol.

“Y’all said early … eight … remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” She laughed, reflecting on the night before, “I had to keep my jaw from dropping when Erika Berger … the _Star-Herald’s_ assistant editor entered holding Abby’s hand.”

“You didn’t have a clue?”

“Not an inkling, I shit you not.”

“Damn! They were tight … and she’s hot.”

“I know.” Carol laughed again, “Guess what Abby told me when I noted Erica’s hotness last week.”

“I can’t imagine. What?”

“She said, and I quote, ‘She’s as straight as an arrow.’ With ‘she’ being Ms. Erika ‘hot’ Berger, of course.

“Well, she was probably just protecting her territory, Carol. You were definitely in heat.”

“You take that back, Missy!”

“No. I will not. It’s true.” Therese squeezed Carol’s arms to her breasts. “I’m glad you were … you, came after me tits out. I loved it.”

“God! I hate it was that obvious.”

“You shouldn’t. Everything turned out great. It was written for us to find each other. I’m just glad you found me and not Erica Big Tits.”

“Wasn’t that hilarious when you answered Erika about what we were going to do today?”

“Jammie Day.”

“Yes, and she said she had never heard that was a ‘thing’ … I couldn’t resist asking her and Abby to join us. I honestly did not think she would go for it … or, Abby for that matter.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Thanks for saying that. Me, too; it’ll be a hoot.”

“Thank you for my midnight present, Carol.”

“Oh! It was my pleasure, darling.”

Therese shook, thinking about her orgasms.

Carol suggested, “I guess we should go down and start coffee and biscuits.”

“Awesome. I always wanted to learn to make biscuits.”

“Well, come on, Honey Puss!”

“Now, Carol, I--”

“Sorry!”

Abby and Erika arrived promptly at eight with vodka, orange juice, and V-8. Abby chimed, “I thought we could make screwdrivers and bloody-marys later.”

They were all set for a carefree “Jammie Day Christmas,” but such would not be the case.

*****

Midmorning on Christmas day, Blake Hughes readied to depart for the family farm. He had made bail on Friday. Trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy, he planned to enjoy their regular holiday traditions. The property had a house with a massive fireplace. The extended family gathered at the farmhouse every Christmas for dinner at one. Blake always headed out as soon as the kid’s finished opening their presents. He’d make sure the property was in good order. Blake kissed his wife, Nancy, goodbye and cautioned her to be careful when she and their three children drove out to join him. Nancy promised to head out as soon as they all finished showering and dressing.

Blake tried his best to forget his legal troubles. He turned up the volume on his radio and sang along with his favorite station’s commercial-free Christmas list. At the farm, he quickly realized that his little brother must have prudently prepped the place earlier in the week. At least, he could help by starting a roaring blaze in the fireplace. Blake headed for the woodpile with a wheelbarrow. Ronald Niedermann watched him from a rise about a hundred yards away.

After moving to the Sally area in November, Bodine decided they needed some firearms. He was not sure either he or his son had the credentials to legally purchase a firearm in an Alabama gun store, and more importantly, he wanted to avoid any paper trail. So Bodine checked the classifieds in the _Sally Star-Herald_. Sure enough, an ad caught his eye. He called the seller then had Niedermann drive him to her residence. In his best good ol’ boy accent, Bodine conducted the transaction. He had ordered Niedermann to “keep shut” during the interaction.

The widow sought to sell her late husband’s “deer rifle and bird gun.” Bodine and Niedermann carefully examined the weapons then agreed to pay her asking price. She was elated; so much so, she threw in a shoebox of ammunition.

The shotgun was a Stevens double-barrel 12 gauge. Niedermann used a hacksaw to shorten the barrels to a felony length fifteen inches and doubled down on the “don’t give a shit” by sawing off the buttstock just south of the grip. He carefully filed the burrs from the muzzles then polished the crowns. The shoebox contained two partial boxes of #8 shot, a five-round sleeve of double ought buckshot, and a box and a half of rifle cartridges. The scattergun stayed under Bodine’s bed loaded with a pair of the buckshot shells. The intriguing rifle went to Niedermann.

The nine-pound bolt-action rifle was a sporterized U.S. Army Model 03-A3 with a match grade aperture sight and Bishop Monte Carlo stock. It was chambered for the potent .30-06 cartridge. He was sure the woman’s man had seldom if ever ventured afield with the rifle. It didn’t have a scratch on it, and the bore was glassy. After asking around at the nearby convenience store, Niedermann discovered a nearby gravel pit that the local gun geeks and hunters used for target practice. He drove by several times in late November until the pit was free of shooters. The rifle put three rounds of the 150-grain Remington Core Lokt spritzers in a half-inch group centered on a Post-it note at fifty yards; whether the widow’s husband or some other previous owner, the sights were regulated for the accompanying ammo. He checked the ballistic chart in a Remington catalog at K-Mart and saw that he could aim dead on a man’s chest cavity from 10 yards to 200 and score a kill. He kept the rifle rolled up in the center of an old rug at the back of his Audi’s trunk. Niedermann had little use for a Cop-magnet handgun; he killed with his hands at close range.

Niedermann, nine years older than Therese, had joined the Bundeswehr at age seventeen in 1970. Amazingly his serious but arcane medical condition slipped by the German army doctors. It was discovered eleven months later when his NCO spotted blood pooling beneath the soldier’s boot during a field exercise. The boy was unaware of his injury; a discarded strand of razor wire, hidden in the sod, had punctured his sole and lacerated his arch.

He was discharged dishonorably a week later for hiding his rare curse. Ironically, Niedermann had completed basic with flying colors. He was the top marksman in his advanced infantry class, and no hand-to-hand combat instructor could best him. Angered and depressed, Niedermann turned to petty crime and alcohol. Bodine happened to make port in Hamburg on the day after the boy pulled an all-nighter. After the obligatory fours beneath, on top, and in front of Bodine, Fräulein Niedermann implored the boy’s absentee father to intervene. Bodine, a misogynistic sadist, always dismissed Therese as garbage, but he had a sinister affection and vicarious fascination for his giant of a son. Long after Jitka and Therese fled New Orleans, Bodine deposited the boy in the care and tutelage of a slick Cajun syndicate. Niedermann thrived, but he was obsessed with his father. When Bodine was tossed from the maritime service, Niedermann eagerly answered his father’s call to join him. They formed a nefarious partnership.

Working with the New Orleans syndicate and later its Alabama operation, Bodine recognized the potential of Miami crack. He formed his own fledgling operation using his imposing son to intimidate, beat, or kill anyone that got in his way. This latest move was well-timed. The North Alabama and West Tennessee markets were void of crack cocaine. Bodine and Niedermann were filling the vacuum.

Bodine amassed cash quickly, but he could not place the ponderous sums in the monetary system. They always kept a few thousand for operations, sealed the rest in moisture-proof tubs, and buried them. This hoard was currently buried beneath a “for-show” vegetable garden in their back yard. For the winter, they planted onions and winter cabbage to cover the ground. Bodine was patient. He had a few local and state politicians and cops in his pocket. It would be nigh impossible to buy a banker given the teeth given to the Bank Secrecy Act in the early 80s to kill both financial insider-directed money laundering and “Smurfing.” Bodine would have to be patient. The recent arrest of his Sally politician was unfortunate. His Sally cop had informed Bodine that Blake Hughes was released on bail by promising to cooperate with the county’s DA

Niedermann’s “papa” sent him on the nasty Christmas errand. As usual, Bodine’s “intelligence” was spot on. Blake was where he should be and alone. Niedermann rotated the safety off, shouldered the sporter, and rested the forend on his coat. He had placed the coat on a low-cut tree stump. Niedermann took a sight picture at the edge of the woodpile. He would let his target enter the point of aim. Hughes reached the pile and paused to adjust his gloves. Niedermann placed the top of the skinny front post on Hughes's chest, took a breath, and pressed the trigger.

Hughes jerked at the shot, took a step back, and collapsed on his side. With a third-of-an-inch hole just left of his sternum and a two-inch exit wound in his back, the frothy lung blood poured out of him.

Niedermann retracted the bolt, slowly capturing the fired cartridge case when it cleared the chamber. He pocketed the case and waited. Niedermann chambered the next round and prepared for a follow-up shot, but he knew it would not be required. The victim’s legs quite twitching seconds after the shot, and he showed no other sign of life for a full minute. Niedermann applied the 03’s safety, arose with coat and weapon in hand, then scurried back to his car on the far side of the woods behind his firing position.

*****

The giddy women were smoking and chatting in Carol’s living room. They looked like lovely birds sprawled about the couch, recliner, and chair in their eclectic mix of robes and slippers. Full of Carol’s biscuits, Therese’s bacon, and a pot of coffee, they were debating about when to crank up the a.m. cocktails. Carol’s phone rang. Therese answered.

“Aird residence.”

“Therese?”

“Yes.”

“This is Delores. The paper has called and wants Abby to call in right away.”

“I’ll tell her, Delores.”

“Thank you, goodbye, dear.”

“Bye-bye.”

Abby recognized her mother’s voice. “The paper?”

“Yes. They want you to call.”

“Shit, I left my beeper in the car.”

Carol flung casual clothes on her bed until Abby and Erica found pants and tops that fit.

Twenty minutes after Delores’s phone call, all four were headed north to the Hughes farm. Not sure of the post ice storm county roads and the terrain at the farm, they had piled into Carol’s Bronco.

Neither Abby nor Erika could reach a photographer. Therese volunteered her services and Armansky’s Nikon. They were the first media people onsite.

Carol shadowed the Sheriff’s deputy that was interviewing Tom Hughes. Blake’s little brother had spotted the body as soon as he pulled up to the house. His wife was holding back Nancy and her children at the house.

Carol knew Tom in passing, but he declined a newspaper interview. Therese got some great photos. She even took some of the surrounding area to set the scene of an article.

Sally PD showed up right after the women. Mack Dugger was with them. “Geez, the ERA free press brigade sure got here fast. One of my guys?”

“Fuck you, Dugger,” scowled Abby. She and Mack had no love lost for one another from all the way back to high school.

“Whoa, Editor. I know you got a job to do … just worried about my leaky bucket.”

Carol intervened. “Don’t let us keep you from investigating the crime scene, Mack. C’mon. Abby.”

They rushed back to the paper. Erika escorted Therese to the paper’s film lab and helped her find the supplies and equipment she would need; it was a surreal moment for Therese.

Of course, the Sunday/Christmas Day issue was long gone, but Abby contacted AP stating their case for a big story while Carol wrote her article. Erica was primed and ready to edit as Carol wrote. Erica also read the piece Carol had been working on since Thursday. It had holes, but the balance was pithy and engaging. Erica talked to Abby, and the pair urged Carol to complete both articles for the Monday edition.

Therese called them to come down and view her pics later in the afternoon. Some lab guys had shown up to help her. Abby and Erika were thrilled with the photographs. Even their photo editor was impressed with Therese’s work after he rushed back from his family gathering in Anniston.

Being Christmas Day, every fast food restaurant and café in town were closed; they couldn’t even get a pizza delivered. Therese mentioned that the hospital cafeteria might have something decent. Erika called ahead, then Therese and she drove over and picked up twenty carry out specials consisting of a Salisbury steak, lima beans, a tiny salad, and cherry pie. It would always be remembered as Salisbury Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cut and paste the link below in your browser if you'd like to view Author Danny Creasy shooting a rifle just like the one Niedermann used. It is a one-minute video.
> 
> https://youtu.be/i15sXwW-1So


	14. Miriam Wu

Carol slapped the front page of the _Sally Star-Herald_ down in front of Therese. Therese was perched on her favorite stool at the kitchen island with jelly toast in hand. She stared pensively at the headline, lead article, and two photos. Carol’s finger pointed to the photographer’s credit. Therese smiled childlike in the surreal moment.

“That’s fucking correct! It says ‘Therese Belivet,’ my dear girl,” Carol proudly exclaimed while patting and rubbing her lover’s back.

Therese and Carol had left the paper late last night. Abby and the staff were still hammering out the layouts. They came home, showered, and fell sound asleep. It had been a hell of a day, quite the Christmas.

Therese had only taken minutes to dress, so she came down and made coffee while Carol did her hair and makeup. Carol poured a cup of Red Diamond on top of a splash of half-and-half in her “University of Alabama 1979 National Champions” mug. Therese popped in a couple of toast for Carol.

“Thanks, Sweetheart.”

“You're welcome, Lady.”

“Mmm, this coffee is delish!”

“I’ve decided I like it the way you do.”

“Well, I hope it’s not just because you want to please me.”

“No … I mean … I love to please you, but with the boys, I never paid much attention to the coffee as long as it was strong and hot. Actually, Dannie usually made it. He’s an early bird. Anyway, I think the way you make it is the best. And the half-and-half is an awesome touch. All we ever kept around was milk … sometimes only Coffee mate.”

“Gross!”

“Gross squared.”

Carol laughed, and her eyes sparkled as she reveled in her continuing infatuation with Therese Belivet.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just so glad you’re here with me.”

“You say that a lot, but I like to hear it a lot.”

They were locking their door and waving goodbye to “Patty-in-the-window” at a quarter to eight.

*****

Rousing at nine, Niedermann and Bodine slumped over sausages and eggs prepared by Juana. One of the things they liked about Juana was the fact she understood not a lick of English. Bodine tossed the paper to Niedermann. “Good work, son; your work made the paper, and look who photographed the crime scene?”

Niedermann took a moment to find his half-sister’s name. He slurred, “Bitch.”

Bodine chuckled.

“But, Daddy, we will have to start all over to find another asset like Hughes.”

“Not here. It is too hot, my boy. With much regret, I think it is time we pack up and leave.”

“Already, Papa?”

“Yes, and we should start today. You need to see if a suitably sized U-Haul is available.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“What about her?” Niedermann gestured at the paper.

“We know where she lives. We will visit her and the blonde dyke tonight. By the way, I called Rico yesterday. I described the blonde to him … appearance, where she lives, and what she drives. She is the reporter that wrote both of these front-page articles.”

“Heilige scheiße!”

Juana glanced over her shoulder at Niedermann. His tone scared the woman. He caught her look and turned his attention back to his plate.

Bodine muttered, “What? You think she is too big a fish?”

“Well, you’ve always taught me the importance of weighing gain against cost, Daddy.”

“I know, Ronald. I’m glad you are here to keep this old seafarer stay on course. We’ll think about it. Now, finish up and check on that vehicle.”

“Yes, Sir.”

*****

At two o’clock in the afternoon, Carol, Therese, Abby, and Armansky kept a meeting arranged by the newspaper’s attorney. The attorney was already at the District Attorney’s office waiting for them.

Carol and Therese told one lie, but everything else they attested to was the truth. Therese claimed to have developed the Bodine roll of film that morning. She’d even gone over to her prior residence to develop some other film so that she could honestly say, “I developed a roll of film this morning.” Phil could innocently attest to the fact that Therese came by to develop some film.

Therese told those assembled who Bodine was and what kind of things he did as of the last time she saw him in Birmingham. His image appearing in a photograph from the Hughes transaction certainly supported the notion that Bodine was still in the biz.

The DA and the Assistant DA could not share the details of their ongoing crack investigation. Still, they were most appreciative of Therese and the others for coming forward and sharing the photograph and Therese’s history with Bodine. The DA came and sat down by Therese after she finished her story. He had a daughter the same age as Therese. He glanced up at Carol to emphasize the importance of what he was about to express to Therese. “Therese, I must tell you that I think you are under considerable risk. Bodine may well suspect that you caught him in these photos when you photographed Hughes.”

Carol asked, “How would Bodine know how Hughes got fingered for the transaction? Armansky didn’t report which of his people took the photographs, and the police have not even made public that it was a photograph that nabbed Hughes.”

The DA shared a questioning look with his compatriot across the room. The ADA nodded. Folks, you have been cooperative and courageous in sharing with us; therefore, we are going to share with you.” He shot his eyes at Abby’s. “Now then, that doesn’t mean it needs to show up in the paper tomorrow morning.”

Abby stated, “Understood.”

“We think there may be a law enforcement leak.”

Carol asked, “Sally PD or the Sheriff’s Department?”

“We don’t know.”

“My God!” exclaimed Armansky.

“I know, Drag, it is horrible.” He turned to the paper’s lawyer, Fred Haymes, and asked, “Fred, I thought we could use this group’s help not only to catch this Bodine creep but expose the crooked law enforcement official as well.”

Fred cleared his throat with a nervous cough and opined, “I don’t know, Sir. You just said Therese, and by association, Carol, were at risk. I’d hate to see Abby, Drag, and who knows else at the paper or Your Security exposed as well.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but we’ve got four deaths either directly or indirectly now related to this crack cocaine mess.”

Fred looked at Abby, then said, “Sir, can we meet in your law library for a few minutes to discuss this?”

“Absolutely, Fred! I’ll get Peggy to make sure it’s squared away for y’all. Relax, folks, I’ll be right back.”

*****

Therese went to Carol’s at three-thirty. Carol would join her after she got off work around five. Therese recognized the Maroon 1979 Subaru Outback DL parked in front of Carol’s house. Therese pulled her bike back in the barn, covered it with the tarp, and walked slowly towards Miriam Wu, carrying her helmet in one hand and her backpack in the other.

“Hey, Miriam.”

“What the hell, Therese. I go on a week’s fight tour and return to find my main girl has gone domestic.”

“I wish I could have talked to you, but I didn’t know where you might be at any one time.”

“I got that. I’m not mad, honey … just … uh, just surprised.”

“Come on in, Miriam. Let’s get out of this cold and talk.”

“I don’t know, Rez. Will the lady of the house mind a stranger coming in her abode?”

“Fuck that, Miriam. She won’t mind, and you’re not a stranger.”

Carol had gotten Therese a house key; Therese used it to open the front door. Patty barked once suspiciously at Miriam, but Therese calmed Patty quickly with a wuzzle to the head. Miriam held out her hand nonthreateningly, and Patty sniffed her thumb then licked it. Miriam scratched her ear. “I get it. It’s not this chick. It’s this baby doll of a hound dog.”

“You guessed it, Miriam. You want a beer.”

“Sure. Whatcha got?”

“Dos Equis.”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Therese placed her helmet, coat, and pack on the living room chair, then went to the fridge and pulled two beers. She opened them and handed one to Miriam, followed by a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Miriam stunned a bit, hugged her back, and murmured, “Talk to me, Rez.”

Therese took a long draw on her beer then gazed at the sexy five-two ball of muscle standing before her. “Look, Miriam, it’s hard to explain. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I mean, I like you, girl, and you are a fucking voodoo vagina witch, but this is different.”

“Is that her? Therese set the timer on her camera one-afternoon last week during the ice storm and took a tripod picture of Carol and her standing in front of an ice glazed althea shrub in the back yard. It was taped to the refrigerator door.

“Yes … that was during last week's storm.”

“I’m glad I missed that, but … I guess you aren’t. Shit, Therese, she’s a fucking goddess.”

“I know. She’s my goddess.”

“Is she good to you?”

“Very. I can’t begin …”

“Okay, okay … I get the picture.” Miriam blinked away a tear and took a long drink.

Therese gestured for them to move to the living room, “Sit down, darlin’, and tell me about the trip. Wait, have a seat and enjoy your beer; I gotta let this sweet girl drain her bladder.”

“Oh, of course, Rez. I’ll just sit in here and fantasize about what you and that ‘older women’ have been doing in this room.”

“Fuck you, Miriam. I’ll be right back.” Therese put Patty on her leash and exited the back door.

Miriam cackled as she plopped down on the couch.

Therese seemed to be taking a long time, and Miriam thought she heard a single disconcerting yelp from Patty. Miriam sat her beer on the coffee table then stood to check on her friend and the lady’s dog. As she stood, she saw a giant of a man through the front window. He was striding from behind the house to the street carrying a ragdoll-like Therese draped over his shoulder.

Miriam darted to the front door, flung it open, and cleared the porch with two bounds. She leaped off its front corner then rolled to break her fall as she hit the lawn. Miriam was on her feet immediately and chasing Niedermann. She decided that surprise was more important than trying to scream at the assailant. The 4th degree Mu Duk Kwan blackbelt closed quickly on Therese's attacker. Niedermann had crossed the little pocket park and was almost at his Audi when Miriam landed a flying dropkick to the back of his head.

He stumbled forward, dropping Therese to the sidewalk on the far side of the park. Miriam had put all of her energy into the reckless flying kick; her resulting landing on the walk's concrete was painful. She shook it off and arose in a fighting stance. Miriam was shocked to see Niederamann stand with an expression of annoyance more than pain. She reasoned that such an impact would have rendered any normal human unconscious.

All Miriam’s blow did is knock Niedermann down. His congenital analgesia prevented his feeling pain of any type. Niedermann assessed his tiny opponent. He smirked at her size and weight but respected her movements. She moved like a trained fighter, and she had just knocked him down, something few large men had ever done.

Niedermann took the most straightforward route; he reached down and snatched up Therese by her leg, pulling her to his car. Like a lightning strike, Miriam took a flying leap at Niedermann and planted her knee squarely on his nose. Ms. Wu was known for 'big air;" she frequently shocked gymnasium occupants by slam-dunking basketballs.

Niedermann was forced to release Therese again as he lost his balance and stumbled backward. This time the back of his head hit his fender as he collapsed.

Miriam hit spun and hopped to Therese’s side. Her friend was only a few feet from abduction now. Miriam did not think her Subaru 4X4 could keep up with the Audi 5000 if this oaf could reach a highway.

Miriam screamed, “Nooooo!” The monster was rising again. She had trained for a blow like the last one many times but only on dummies and bags. That was a lethal force blow. This ogre should be dead. Miriam grasped Therese’s wrists and started backstepping. Miriam drug Therese across the park and into the street. Genevieve Cranell had stepped out after viewing the altercation from her parlor window. “Hey, there! What the hell’s going on down there? I’m calling the police!”

Niedermann was plodding towards Miriam and her precious cargo. “Vivy’s” holler caused him to pause. He noticed his blood-drenched front. A hand to his face discovered the source; a crimson torrent flowed from his nose. Niedermann decided to abandon this mission. He stumbled to his car and screeched away.

Miriam resumed dragging Therese until she reached the other side of the street. She eased Therese’s arms to the sidewalk then raced for her Outback.

Genevieve yelled, “Is that Carol’s new little friend?”

Without breaking stride, Miriam bellowed, “Yes, Ma’am! I’m going to put her in my car and drive her to Sally General. Will you call them and tell them that we are on our way. I think she has a major concussion. Also, call the police, and if you know where Carol Aird might be this time of day, call her. Oh, I’m afraid that creep may have killed their dog in the backyard. Will you check on it or get the police to when they arrive.”

Until Genevieve had inherited her wealth, she had been a cracker-jack stenographer; she amazingly had the entirety of Miriam’s request down. “I will, darlin’ … Godspeed!”

As Miriam and Therese sped away, Genevieve had entered her house and picked up her phone. She dialed 911; multitasking, Genevieve started thumbing through the phone book for the newspaper’s phone number. She talked to herself to calm her nerves, “Surely the 911 can take care of the hospital message as well. Oh, hurry the fuck up, 911.” She glanced out her front door at Carol’s house and quaked, “Poor Patty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/nJDALal)  
> 1979 Subaru Outback DL 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/gukO8q6)  
> The power of non-passive thinking.


	15. Waiting

Abby braked to a stop at the entrance of Sally General Hospital’s emergency room. “I’ll park and join you in a jiff.”

“Thanks, Abby,” replied Carol as she exited the capacious sedan.

Carol rushed through the rotating doors and hurried to the receptionist’s counter. One person was ahead of Carol. The woman turned from the form she was pondering and met Carol’s eyes. “Carol?” Miriam recognized Therese’s lover from the refrigerator door’s snapshot.

“Miriam Wu?”

“Yes, Ma’am. That neighbor lady must have called you.”

“My goodness! You're the one who brought Therese here?”

“I did. I dropped by your house this afternoon to say hi to Therese. She pulled in on her bike and invited me in for a beer and a chat. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course. What happened?”

“She asked me to sit in your living room while she took the dog outback. My guess is that big goon knocked her out and grabbed her back there. He was carrying her to an Audi. I ran the guy down and dropkicked his ass. We tangled, and I managed to get Rez away from him. I don’t know what happened to your dog … I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. The important thing is that you saved Therese. Are you okay … your forehead is bleeding.”

Miriam took her fingers above her left eye and winced as they touched the abrasion. She stared numbly at the blood on her fingertips.

“Here, darling, come sit down.” Carol led Miriam to one of the couple-dozen chairs in the waiting room. The late afternoon space was vacant, save for Carol and Miriam.

A nurse stepped from the large double doors and walked directly to Miriam. “Miss Wu. Let me dress that wound.”

Surprised, Carol uttered, “Thank you.”

The cute RN smiled at Carol. “My, my! Celebrity day at the ER, and I thought it was going to be a dull shift. You’re that reporter … Carol Aird … right?”

“I am.”

“Consider me a fan. I love your stuff in the paper.”

The nurse glanced at the form in Miriam’s shaking hands. “How’s that form coming, Miss Wu?”

Abby walked in, saw Carol, and hurried to join her. Abby did not know what to think of the eclectic trio.

Miriam glanced incredulously at the graceful businesswoman; then, she returned her attention to the nurse. Noting the angel of mercy’s nametag, she returned to the question about Therese's paperwork. “Not very well, Debbie. Mrs. Aird? You might do better with these.” She handed the clipboard and pen to Carol.

Carol glanced at the form. Abby perched down in the seat next to Carol and suggested, “Here, let me check this out. I’ll read you the questions, and you answer … okay?”

Carol smiled at Abby and released the clipboard to Abby.

Miriam smiled at the nurse as Debbie gently dabbed antiseptic on her head wound.

“Does that sting, Miss Wu?”

“A little. How do you know my name?”

“Wow? Humble, too. Are you kidding me, lady? I follow your fights. I’m new in Sally, but the sensei of my Waterloo dojo took us to your fights a couple of times.”

“Sensei Dave?”

“Yes?”

“Oh, I love him.”

Debbie giggled as she applied some antibiotic cream to the scuff and then whispered, “I miss them, but other than my folks, that’s about all I miss from fuckin’ Waterloo.

Miriam chuckled. “Please call me Miriam, Debbie … you’re making me feel old.”

Debbie gingerly covered the wound with an adhesive bandage then beamed, “There! Leave that on overnight, and then let it breathe starting tomorrow. The air will help it. Here, put the rest of this Neosporin in your pocket … put some on that booboo over the next couple of days.

Abby asked, “Carol, does Therese have any insurance?”

Carol had been staring distractedly at the doors from which Debbi had emerged; she envisioned a smiling Therese striding out while rubbing her head. “Oh, shit … I never asked—”

Debbie reached into her pocket and pulled out a small Ziploc baggie. “Here, this is your friend’s little wallet thingy and her piercings. There are an insurance card and driver’s license in there. A registration clerk Xeroxed them; then I put them back in the wallet.”

Miriam, Abby, and Carol marveled at the gracious assertiveness of the young nurse. Debbie loved it. “You know what, ladies? That clerk has the same form going with the personal info from the license and the health insurance company’s policy and group numbers. I’ll send her out here to see if y’all can fill in the rest of her blanks … no sense in doubling up.”

Armansky had arrived and overheard the last exchange. “Despite her part-time status, I put Therese on Armansky Enterprises group health insurance plan.”

Carol stated, “You are a saint, Drag.”

He blushed.

Miriam asked, “Debbie, is Therese still unconscious?”

“Yes, but her vitals are stable.”

“Carol asked, “Can I see her?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Aird. The attending has sent her up to x-ray.”

“Oh …” A tear ran down Carol’s cheek.

Debbie handed her a little pack of Kleenexes. “We’ll update you as soon as we know more.”

“Miriam, when you first got here, you mentioned that she was attacked. Did you witness it? The doctor said more details about the assault would be helpful. Like … did he hit her with a weapon?”

“I didn’t witness it, Debbie, but I’m pretty sure he just used his fist. He didn’t have a gun or sap on him that I could see.”

“Okay. I’ll tell the doctor. Hey, I’d love to see this guy. Did you kick the shit out of him?”

“I tried, but he was … I don’t know … sorta like a blonde tank. The blood coming out to his nose scared him, though. He ran off at that point. Well, a neighbor walked out and hollered at him, too. He kinda looked like a schoolboy caught by the teacher.”

“No, shit?”

“Yep.”

“Blood gushing from his nose! I love it. Hey, be sure and tell the cops that. They can alert every medical facility in the area to be on the lookout for a blonde tank with a broken face.”

Carol asked, “Cops?”

“Yes, Ma’am … here they come.”

Two Sally policemen approached. Debbie greeted, “Hi, Tom, Barney … these women are the victim’s friends. The victim is still unconscious and has been sent to radiology.”

Tom said, “Thanks, Deb. We’ll talk to these folks then wait to hear from you.”

“Sure thing, Tom.”

Miriam stood, “Debbie, is that like a unisex restroom?”

Debbie snickered, “It is. Here, let me check it for you.” As Debbie opened the door for Miriam, she slipped a card in her hand and whispered, “Your friend is going to be fine, Miriam. Call me some time.”

*****

Earlier, after calling 911 and Carol, Genevieve stepped to her front entrance to await the police. She had left her ornate inner door open. Genevieve pondered Carol’s residence through her glass storm door. “Toby, you stay under the chair. Momma will be right back.” She closed both doors behind her and headed for Carol’s.

First, Genevieve closed Carol’s inner front door. Miriam had left it open. Then “Vivy” walked around the half porch to the back of the house. Genevieve was taken aback by what she found. She immediately recognized the blue plastic tarp. It was the massive one Carol’s new girlfriend used to cover her motorcycle. It was ominously balled up in the middle of the yard. She gasped when it wiggled. Genevieve called out, “Patty?” Genevieve heard a muffled bark.

It took the neighbor a moment to unroll and free Carol’s hound. Genevieve was elated when the dog licked her face. Patty bounced around Genevieve wagging her long tail. “Look at you, Patty Girl … none the worse for wear.”

The dog was still wearing its harness and leash. Genevieve took Patty to the porch and found the back door open. She made sure the dog had water, then removed the harness and exited the back porch door. Genevieve closed the back door, and as she walked to the front of the house, a black and white pulled up.

*****

Carol glanced at her watch. The doctor had stepped out a little after five to tell them that Therese had not achieved consciousness, but her x-rays showed no further injury. He was particularly adamant when reporting the absence of any sign of bleeding in Therese’s brain. It was now six.

In between those times, Erika had come and gone with some paperwork for Abby to sign. She hugged Carol, but Erika was too upset to say anything.

As Erika departed, one of the policemen returned. “Mrs. Aird. I wanted to let you know that your neighbor, a Miss or Mrs. Cranell, found your dog. Your pet is unharmed and safe and sound back in your house.”

Carol and Abby moved to a double seat; it was nothing more than an elongated take on the waiting room’s chairs. Carol leaned her head on Abby’s shoulder. Abby put her arm around Carol to pat and massage her friend’s shoulder.

On the far wall, Miriam occupied another such seat. She had curled up in a fetal position and fallen sound asleep. Armansky had departed with a promise to return with some food and drink.

“Abby, I think I’d die if I lost my Therese.”

“Hush, hush, with that kind of talk, Goose. Your girl is going to be fine. She’ll wake up. You wait and see.”


	16. Comings and Goings in the Night

“Fuck, Ronald! What happened to your face? Get in here! Sit down."

“Papa, I screwed up.”

“How so, boy?”

“You told me to go catch the girl and bring her here but avoid the woman.”

“What happened?” asked Bodine as he placed their tattered box of medical supplies next to Niedermann on the couch.

“Well, I had a good plan. I observed their house all afternoon from their outbuilding; it’s located in the far corner of their back yard. The other day, I noticed that they took their dog out in the backyard to piss right after they got in. I hoped the girl would come in first, and I could grab her when she emerged with the mutt. The girl came in on a motorcycle and parked it in the barn. She covered her bike with a big tarpaulin. Dammit, I couldn't believe my luck, Papa! She was just a few feet from me. I was hiding behind an old chifferobe; it was sanded but not finished and was covered with another tarpaulin. I was about to jump her when I saw her wave to someone in the front yard. It was another tiny black-haired bitch much like her. Belivet walked to the front and greeted the other woman. They must have entered the house from the front. If Belivet came out with the dog, I figured the other punk whore would be with her. I started to slip away but feared she’d see me from a back window. I decided to be patient.”

Bodine had soaked a kitchen towel with hot water. He handed it to Ronald to wash the blood from his face. “Good. Patience is usually the best course. I take it she brought the dog out?”

“She did … alone.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Sir, but that’s when I blew it. She and the hound walked all the way to the back fence. I was obscured from their view. When she walked in front of the barn, I punched her in the temple. I pulled it, Papa; it was not a killing blow. Belivet went down cold. I had hoped to grab the dog and throttle it, but that hellion was quick; it latched on to my forearm.” Niedermann boyishly offered his right forearm for examination.

Bodine unwrapped the paper towels Niedermann had used in the car as a temporary bandage. The skin of the forearm was a mangled mess. Bodine could clearly see where the dog must have bitten, shook, released, and then reattached. “You had your coat on didn't you?”

“I did. That dog’s jaws were like saw blades!”

“This is more of a problem than your fucking face. It needs stitches and antibiotics. What a goddamned mess!”

“Oh, but my nose is broken.”

“But it‘s not the first time, huh?”

“No, Papa … sorry, Daddy.”

Bodine handed his son a glass. “Hold it steady.” Bodine filled the glass with Jack Daniel’s.”

Niedermann drained the glass in two gulps then handed the glass back to his father.

“Did you kill the beast?”

“No, I flung it against the motorcycle, and it barked once loudly. I wasn’t about to let it bite me again. I picked up the corner of the tarpaulin and rolled it up. The dog jumped around inside of the bundle in a panic. It worked the tarp out into the yard. I caught it and rolled it up tighter. The tarp was huge, perhaps three meters by nine. Finally the hound stopped moving.”

“The woman in the house did not come out?”

“Not at that time. I tossed Belivet over my shoulder and headed for my car. It was across the street on the other side of a small playground.”

Despite his familiarity with his son’s condition, Bodine was amazed when Niedermann did not react in the least as he doused the torn arm with rubbing alcohol.

“So, what went wrong?”

“I was getting close to the car when the other chick knocked the shit out of me.”

“What? Didn’t you say she was small?”

“She was, but Daddy … she must have approached silently like a panther. I don’t know how she struck me in the back of my head that hard, but the next thing I knew, I was on the ground. After, I got to my feet. I saw that witch getting up from the pavement.”

“She flying-dropkicked you.”

“I believe you are right, Daddy.”

“What did you do?”

“She moved with precision like a martial artist. I thought it best to pluck up Belivet, throw her in the car, and drive away. I had Belivet in hand and was only a few feet from the Audi. I thought I could fend off any attack from the witch now that I was aware of her presence, but she's a trained fighter, Daddy. Before I could even react, she put a knee in my face.”

“And you don’t feel any of this?”

“Nothing.”

Bodine squeezed his son’s nose to see if he could detect the damage. The cartilage cracked and wiggled inside. More blood gushed out. Niedermann did not wince.

“You left your step-sister?”

“I did. That götze had Belivet at that point. I started to reengage, but a neighbor had walked out and was screaming at me.”

“So, here we are.”

“Yes, Daddy, here we are.”

*****

Just after one on Tuesday morning, Carol was awakened by the sound of her name being called.

“Carol … Carol, where am I?”

Carol imagined for a moment that she was dreaming. She stiffly arose from the “suck-ass” hospital room recliner. Now assured this was real, Carol stepped to Therese’s bedside.

Therese weakly extended her hand towards Carol. “What happened?”

Carol took Therese’s hand, leaned across the bedrail and gently kissed her love.

Carol glanced over her shoulder to the far corner of the room, “Abby!”

Abby stirred, “Oh, my God!” She stepped to the foot of the bed and grinned at Therese. “I’ll tell the nurses.”

“Thanks.”

Miriam had been trying to decide on one of the vending machine candy bars when she saw Abby dash to the nurses’ station. Back in the room, they found Carol and Therese chatting away in tears.

A doctor arrived a couple of minutes later. The nurse asked Carol, Abby, and Miriam to exit for a few minutes while the doctor examined Therese.

Therese hesitantly released Carol’s hand.

*****

The 80-year-old retired large animal veterinarian took Bodine’s $500 cash with a smile as he bid goodnight to his evening visitors. Dr. Cleave was only too glad to patch up the simple gargantuan with “no questions asked.” The tax-free funds would stake his next Tunica outing. He could already hear the jingle of his Mississippi casino’s slots. Dr. Cleave had read of congenital analgesia, but to have a case first hand in front of him had been fascinating. He murmured to himself, “No anesthetic required; not even a damned local!”

Bodine drove them home along the winding roads of western Bland County. It was after two when he put his lug of a son to bed and turned off all but a nightlight; Niedermann was scared of the dark. Bodine slipped the sawed-off double back under his own bed and collapsed into slumber.

*****

Armansky went through and inspected his alarm technician’s work. He had offered to pay Plague double overtime for the late-night installation, but the gentle giant had refused to accept any compensation after he heard what happened to Therese. The Aird house now had an alarm system linked to Your Security’s monitoring desk.

*****

Thomas “Wild Boy” Slaughter watched the two “alarm guys” depart the old North Sally residence. He had parked at the back of Five Points Methodist Church. It was close to two hundred yards, but his telescopic night vision equipment exposed the workers perfectly. This would certainly complicate matters. Wild Boy would have to “think on this.”

His contract expired at midnight on Thursday. That gave him Wednesday to observe the subjects and collect data. Thursday might go one of several ways, but it would end well for him. Things always ended well for Wild Boy.


	17. A Dark Cloud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/O4ujzf6)  
>  "Baby Girl"

“I can’t believe I’ve never asked, but where did you get Patty from?”

“Oh, I’m surprised I’ve never told you.” Carol placed their mugs of tea on the table in between Mouse and the end of the couch then she made sure Therese’s quilt was tucked in. When Carol was satisfied with her girl’s comfort, she patted Therese's arm then sat down on the couch. Carol pulled her own quilt up around her folded legs. Patty was curled up on the other end of the couch, burrowed into a couple of pillows.

“Thank you; I’m growing to love hot tea.”

Carol smiled, “Well, ‘It soothes the soul and warms the heart,’ so they say, and I agree.”

She lifted the mug, took a sip, and answered, “I had been back in Sally for about a month, when Erika came to my desk and sheepishly asked, ‘Carol, would you mind attending a ribbon-cutting at the Sally Animal Shelter. We need 500 words for tomorrow’s edition?’ She apologized for the short notice saying that Gloria Hobbs was scheduled to cover the event but called in sick with a stomach bug.

I rushed over, caught the ceremony, and interviewed the director. One of her workers gave me the nickel tour. I came across these cute hound dog puppies in one cage, two males and a female. The guys were all rowdy, but the tiny girl sat quietly in the back corner. The worker told me that the three were a litter left in a box on an empty Scott Street lot.”

“I know that street. It’s near the boys’ house.”

“Yes, well, some passerby brought them to the shelter a couple of days before the event. That shelter gal told me that she was concerned about the female; it was a ‘runt of the litter situation.’ The larger, more aggressive males were eating all the food in their cage before ‘Baby Girl’ could get more than a bite or two.”

“Baby Girl?”

“Yes, that’s what she called the female. She said she was trying to pull Baby Girl out at feeding time and feed her separately, but she could not speak for the other shifts.”

“So, you took her home.”

“I did, and I’m glad I did. I took her to the vet the next day for shots and a physical. He said she was underweight and malnourished. And, Therese, the shelter, thought the litter was ten weeks old. The vet figured she was eight weeks at best.”

Therese glanced at Patty. “Baby Girl … I love that. You know, I’ve found myself baby-talking that name to her.”

“Yes, it’s natural. She’s our ‘Baby Girl.”

“Hey, of course, this means I love you even more, Carol Aird.”

“Good to know. I can read you more chapters from the ‘Tales of Carol’s Golden Heart’.”

“Save them; my head hurts too bad for crying, even if they are tears of joy.”

“Oh, babe, should I get you one of those pain killers?”

“No, they make me sleepy, and I’m loving sitting here with you.”

“Well, don’t wait too long. You mustn’t let the pain get on top of you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to turn on the TV?”

“No, I like the quiet.”

“I hear that.”

They smirked at one another.

Therese shifted a bit to peer out the front window located behind Carol. “Did you say a cop car was stationed out there?”

“Yes, but it’s closer to Richard’s side than the park-side. Relax, dear; it's there.”

“Relax? I’m trying. I still can’t remember anything after taking Patty out in the yard.”

“Don’t fret about all that right now, darling. You’re safe. We’re safe.”

“I know. You’re right, Carol.” Therese sipped her steaming tea and smiled at Carol.

Carol cooed, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Carol examined a serious-looking booklet from the table. “Wow … so, we have an alarm system.” She flipped through the pages then tossed the booklet back on the table. “Well, that’s that.”

Therese laughed. Then cried, “Ouch!”

“Oh, no! I’m sorry; no more funnies!”

After another sip of tea, Therese asked, “Abby is okay with you not being at work.”

“Hon, she insisted I take off the rest of the week to take care of you. Given our ‘friendship’ … yours and mine … she had Erika pen an article about your attack.”

“Ah, in the interest of objectivity.”

“Yes, and I’m fine with that. It was in today’s paper, but you can’t look at it.”

“Oh, believe me, I don’t want to, at least for the time being.”

Therese glanced at the morning’s paper that lay folded on the desk. She read the date, “Thursday, December 29, 1983. The year is almost dunzo.”

“I know the doctor said no alcohol for a while, but I asked about a glass of Champaign. He said that would be fine by Saturday night.”

“New Year's Eve.”

“I’ve spent so many of those alone the last few years.”

“Me, too. Well, alone in crowds.”

“No, Miriam?”

“I just met her last spring.”

“She probably saved your life. No! I’m sure she did.”

“I think you’re right.”

“She’s beautiful … and funny.”

“Right again.”

Carol sighed.

Therese reached across and grasped Carol’s hand. “But she’s not you, Carol. She’s not my love.”

Carol dabbed away a tear.

“I do need to thank her, though. And Abby. And Armansky. And—” Therese began to sob.

Carol stood and went to the far side of the recliner. She knelt to hug Therese. “Let it all out, darling. Your Carol is here. You just let go.”

As Therese calmed, she quaked, “I think I could use that pain killer now.”

“And so you shall have it, my dear.”

*****

Wild Boy couldn’t believe his luck when one of his subjects stepped out of their back door into the yard. His target stopped and lit a cigarette. From the cover of the barn, he placed the reticle of his light-amplifying scope on the individual's left eye. The distance to target was somewhere in the range of a hundred feet.

Wild Boy purchased the military-issue, night-vision scope, and a silencer from a backdoor gun guy in Birmingham. Slaughter was a proficient, self-made gunsmith. He installed both the optical sight and the suppressor on a Marlin .45 ACP Camp Carbine. The cartridge’s subsonic round sounded little more than a cough after he pressed the trigger.

The subject’s head snapped back from the impact of the Sugar Babies-sized bullet. The hitman watched his victim’s death throes with morbid fascination; he never tired of it.

Now he waited. It took a surprisingly long twenty minutes for the other subject to step outside. Wild Boy had grown cold and stiff in the frigid structure. He shivered. His reaction was slow. The second subject saw the body of the loved one and turned to reenter the house. The target had to pause as the screen door opened outwardly. Wild Boy shifted the wobbling reticle to the center of the subjects back and fired. The target screamed in agony and stumbled into the screen door, then recoiled back. One of the subject’s feet missed the edge of the porch. Slamming onto a hedge, another cry of pain echoed across the grounds. Wild Boy double-tapped the writhing body. He waited a couple of seconds, then found the head and center-punched it.

Wild Boy could hear a neighbor’s dog barking. He exited the barn on stiff legs and shuffled back along its side. He pushed through the gap in the fence he had cut earlier. After stumbling through several yards of underbrush, he caught his stride in a field. He tripped twice on stubble, but Wild Boy dare not use his flashlight. The dog’s master must have come out of his house and was now hollering at someone, perhaps a family member or another neighbor.

Wild Boy was elated when his 1969 Ford pickup came into view. He shoved the Marlin in its rifle case then slid it behind the seat. Wild Boy drove south a mile, then turned west. He would take a meandering route out of the county. The second half of his fee would be sent to a Jackson, Tennessee, post office box opened to receive one package and one package only.

*****

Carol Aird’s phone rang at 2:35 a.m. on Friday, and rang, and rang. It stopped. A minute later, it rang again.

“Hello.”

“Carol?”

“What the hell, Abby?”

“Are you drunk?”

“No! I’m not drunk. You know how fucking hard I sleep in the witching hours.”

“Oh, yeah … I forgot.”

“What’s up?”

“The Assistant DA called me a few minutes ago.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“What did he want?”

“He told me that Karl Axel Bodine’s dead body was found out behind a little farmhouse a few miles south of Boon Town.”

“What?”

“You heard correctly; Therese’s dear Daddy was shot dead around eleven last night.”

“Holy fucking hell.”

“I know. Hey, you know the big blonde guy that you, Armansky, and Therese reported seeing at Hatter?”

“The dead ringer of Therese and Miriam’s assailant?”

“That’s the one. Well, his body was a few feet away from the other one.”

“Have they identified him?”

“Uh-huh, he is one Ronald Niedermann, a German national.”

Abby waited through the silence on Carol’s end of the line. Then asked, “Carol?’

“I’m here. Have you ever had a dark cloud lift from your life?”

“I feel the same, Goose. I’ve been worried sick about y’all.”

“I know Sweet Abby Dabby Doo.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking sappy, Carol Aird.”

“And you’re such a fucking rock, Duck.”

“Hey, I know I gave you the week off, but Armansky said he’d drive us down there to the crime scene. Are you up for it?”

Therese had crawled across the bed and was eavesdropping a few inches from Carol’s ear. She announced, “I am!”

“Is that, Therese?”

Carol sighed, “Of course.”

“Shit, she can’t go. She’s supposed to res—” After a pause, Abby continued, “I guess I stuck a thumb in that prescription.”

“What’s the deal? Is Armansky meeting us somewhere?”

“No, I’m expecting him here at my house in a few. Can you two be ready in twenty minutes?”

Carol glanced at Therese. Therese nodded. Carol replied to Abby. “Sure.”

“Dress warmly.”

“We will.”

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Since Jimmy Olsen is all in, can she bring her camera? I’d as soon not wake up Eli or Scrub.”

Carol felt a squeeze on her shoulder. Theresa exclaimed, “Have Camera Will Travel.”

Abby laughed, “I heard that. She’s too fucking young even to know who Paladin is?”

“She’s an old soul, Abby.”

*****

The crime scene was a zoo. Both counties’ sheriff departments were onsite as well as Sally PD, the FBI, and the DEA.

A TV crew was unloading. Therese rushed to photograph the bodies, and Abby engaged the Sheriffs while Carol approached what appeared to be witnesses. The intrastate force was waiting on the Alabama Department of Investigation’s forensic team.

Therese coldly snapped pics of her father, the killer of Jitka Belivet. Before some deputy or cop could shoo her away, she photographed the Frankenstein that sucker punched her into a nine-hour nightmare. She’d had to claw out of the dream world like it was a slimy pit teasing her with semi-consciousness. Theresa noted the contrast in the kills. Her father was shot to pieces, left contorted and grimacing. The giant goon lay on his back as if asleep with a frozen pool of blood for a pillow.

Carol talked to the neighbor and his adult son that found the bodies. She quickly realized their real treasure was the candid observances they shared about the comings and goings of the nefarious pair. Carol was a copious but subtle note-taker. A younger sleepyhead of a brother joined the two neighbors. Carol introduced herself, “Hello, young man. My name is Carol. I’m with the _Sally Star-Herald_. What do you have to say about these neighbors of yours?”

“Aw, not much, Ma’am. But, did y’all—” He stopped and looked nervously at his father.

“Well, go ahead, Billy. If ya got sumpin to tell the lady, tell her.”

“Ma’am, y’all oughta dig up that garden. Them dudes buried some shit down there.”

“Watch yer langage, boy! Kant ya see, this is a lady?”

“Sorry, Ma’am.

Carol glanced at the nearest cluster of LE personnel. She recognized Harvey Brigands of the DEA. “Agent Brigands! You need to hear what this boy just told me.”

At dawn, a shaky Therese went to sit in Armansky’s car. Armansky opened the trunk and got out two juice boxes and a pack of peanut butter crackers. He handed the juice to Therese. She stabbed it with the tiny straw and began to drain the fruity goodness. Armansky opened the crackers, took two, and handed her the rest. “I always carry some snacks in the trunk.”

“You know that in an alternate universe, you’re my Pop, don’t you?”

He laughed out loudly. “My little dragon girl, in my heart, I’m your father in this universe.”

Abby and Carol walked over to join them. Carol asked, “You got any more of those drinks, Drag?”

“Sure.” He walked to the trunk. As he returned with two more juice boxes and more crackers, Agent Brigands walked up. “Miss Belivet, how’re you feeling?”

“Better, I guess.”

“Miss Belivet, I went over to the neighbors' house and used their phone. I’ve been on the line back and forth with my buddies in Birmingham and New Orleans for the last hour. Were you aware that Bodine had any other offspring?”

“No … well, when Momma was high, she joked once or twice about him having kids in seaports all over the world.”

“I guess her suspicions were correct. This Ronald Niedermann thug is your half-brother.”

Therese wavered. Carol slipped in close to her on the car seat and steadied her with an arm around her shoulder.

After seeing that Therese was supported, Agent Brigands added. “They’ve been keeping tabs on these two for a while now. The DEA field agents in New Orleans have files on both of them that go back to Sweden and Germany. They are … sorry … they were a couple of salty dogs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/3UqcUla)   
> 


	18. "Get Busy, Captain"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this were a book with two parts, Part II would begin now.

As he did almost every morning, he got out of bed before his wife and kids, shaved, showered, and departed. She had long since given up offering to make him breakfast. No, he wanted to be free of her and the children’s morning hustle and bustle. He usually drove to Hatter. Arriving at seven sharp, just as the doors opened, he would go to his spot in the northwest corner. It was a small table with two chairs. He only used one of them; the other was for his thoughts. The crew knew what he wanted. A simple nod would send them to fetch his Americano and bran muffin. Being a Saturday, he would not see the weekday business acquaintances. Today’s crowd would consist mostly of college students, shoppers, and county folks. He would probably go to the office after leaving Hatter and just piddle at his desk for an hour before returning home to take somebody to a ballgame or dance recital. On Sundays, he would dart home, change, and carry his family to church.

He always left the home-delivered paper for his wife. Hatter provided a dozen copies for its morning clientele. Coming in as the door opened, he could always take an unread copy of the _Sally Star-Herald_ from the stack. He carefully read the lead article. Its story dominated the front page with not one but two articles. Carol Aird wrote both of them. One was about the professional-grade hit on two crack distributors. They were killed on a small farm in the neighboring county just south of his own. The ten-acre farm was titled to the older of the two victims, a Swedish national named Karl Axel Bodine.

His coffee and muffin arrived. He thanked the waitress. The article pulled him back. He was surprised to read that the other dead body was the older man’s son. He never had a clue as to the pair being blood kin. He finished the article and sighed with relief. The second article was shorter. It concentrated on a freelance photographer named Therese Belivet. He was aware of the punker-girl. Her “dramatic” appearance had always put him off, but despite her “facial-decorations” and baggy clothes, he saw a cloaked, model-like beauty. A picture of Belivet topped Aird’s piece. It was different. The girl seemed to have filed down her sharp edges; this image was that of a peregrine beauty.

A brief article about an assault on Belivet appeared in the paper earlier in the week. Now her assailant was believed to be the younger of the two dead men, a German national named Ronald Niedermann. He stroked his chin in reflection. It was somewhat surprising that he never knew what countries the two Europeans hailed from, yet he had noticed their contrasting accents.

Interestingly, all six of the front-page photos, including the image of Belivet, were credited to "Therese Belivet." The newswoman/photographer had become the news. All the photos were excellent. Shocking but not gory, the other five included one of each corpse, the farmhouse, the barn, and five plastic tubs containing an undisclosed sum of cash. He quickly estimated a figure well in excess of two million dollars.

He had a few more sips of coffee, ate the muffin, and then reread both of the articles. He had mixed feelings. If things had worked out differently, he could have been set with over a million dollars hidden in his “gun safe.” Nonetheless, he had acted aggressively to save himself from prison and managed to clear a hundred and fifty grand. Wild Boy’s fee of 30K was a bargain given the alternative. Wednesday’s snap decision to change the killer-for-hire’s assignment from the lesbian couple to the father and son proved wise. And Hughes was dead. There seemed to be nothing left to tie the “upstanding citizen” to the fledgling North Alabama crack cocaine venture. However, these newspaperwomen and their “Godfather,” Armansky, would bear watching.

*****

“Therese, that self-portrait makes me … mmm … well, let’s just say it’s stunning.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely, and I love your choice of clothing, your birthday jacket, and my ivory blouse.”

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Of course. Yes, so simple, yet perfect. Did you use a tripod and timer?”

Therese chuckled, “I did.”

They were sitting in bed reading the Saturday paper. Carol had gone down earlier to make coffee. She returned with a tray of coffee, orange juice, and oatmeal. The empty tray now rested on the foot of the bed, as did Patty.

Carol had stepped outside to take Patty potty and grab the paper. “It’s another cold one out there.”

“You know, I usually prefer winter, but I’m ready for spring. December was brutal.”

“And to think, our worst winter weather usually comes in February.”

“Ugh!” Therese moaned then snuggled in close with her head on Carol’s breasts.

Carol wrapped her arm around Therese, pulling her in close and tight. “I like that.”

“I do, too. At least it’s good snuggling weather.”

“Oh, I haven’t asked! No headache, today?”

“None.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“It is.”

“I have a plan for our New Year’s Eve tonight.”

“Ooh, that sounds interesting.”

“Mm-hmm, and cozy; I’m going to build a fire in the den, throw pillows and blankets on the rug, then toast the new year with my girl. We’ll put ‘Richard’s wood’ to good use.”

Therese snickered and then asked, “Could we roast marshmallows? I’ve never done that.”

“Well, we’ll have to remedy that! I’ll pick some up when I run out for the Champagne.” Carol never said things like _I can’t believe that!_ Or, _Girl, what kinda life you been living?_ She could only imagine the “kinda life” her sweetheart had “been living.”

“Carol?”

“Yes, Darling?”

“If my head still feels this good tonight … well, I … I—”

“Carol gently placed her pointer on Therese’s lips. “Yes, Darling. If you’re up to it, I’ll make sweet, gentle love to you. Then Carol said in her best British accent, “Until the dawn if you so desire!”

“Yummy.”

Carol laughed as she clutched Therese even tighter.

*****

“Well, did y’all find out anything from your stoner buddies?”

Dannie answered, “Nothing, Uncle Drag. Phil went down and talked to Clayburn, and I caught up with Hooch at the lumberyard. Neither has heard anything about these crack dealers and some kind of war or the like.”

“Thank you for checking into it, guys. I know you don’t normally move in those circles.”

“No problem, Unk,” said Phil.

As agreed, they had rendezvoused in the parking lot of Your Security at three in the afternoon. “Would you two join me for a beer at Snider’s? There’d be a bowl game on the TVs.”

Dannie thought about how lonely the widower must be on such days, let alone one whose only child, a daughter, lived in California. He grinned, “Sure, Uncle Drag … and wings?”

“Oh, yeah. I gotta have some of those wings. Do you want to ride with me, or would you rather meet me there?”

“Let’s just ride with you; parking will be hell on Court today.”

“True. Hop in!”

*****

It had been a long and busy day for Richard Semco. He smelled wood burning as he stepped out of his Corvette. Richard glanced at Carol Aird’s roof and saw smoke rising from the chimney. He smiled proudly. Carol’s Bronco pulled in her drive. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he waited for her to step out.

“Glad I could be of assistance!” he teased as Carol spotted him. He gestured to her chimney.

She saw the smoke then beamed, “Are you proud of me for starting a fire? It’s been years!”

“Well done, Mrs. Aird!”

As she neared her steps, he could see that she had groceries in one arm and a bottle of Champagne in the other. “You gals are killin’ me.”

Confused for a moment, Carol asked, “What?”

Richard pointed at the libation. “A crackling fire and a bottle of bubbly? I mean …”

“Sorry. Hey, surely a good lookin’ fella like you has a New Year’s Eve date.”

“I did, but a couple of other docs got sick at the hospital, and she got called to work the graveyard shift.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“What’s her name?”

“Annika Giannini.”

“Derek and Sylvia Giannini’s little girl?”

“That’s right, but she’s not a little girl anymore.”

“I bet. Those two are like an Italian Ken and Barbie.”

He laughed, “Exactly.”

“That’s a shame she had to work, Richard.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Why don’t you get her favorite carryout and take it to her at midnight. Surely, she gets a meal break. The liquor store had alcohol-free sparkly stuff.”

“You know, that’s a good suggestion, Mrs. Aird. Thanks.”

“If you really want to thank me, start calling me Carol.”

He paused a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I will. Happy New Year’s Eve, Carol.”

“Happy New Year’s Eve, Richard.”

Therese had heard them talking. She opened the door and stepped out with Patty. Therese called out, “Hey, Richard!”

“Hey, Therese! Hey, Patty!”

Patty barked at Richard while happily wagging her tail.

Richard chuckled at the dog. Then turned serious and asked, “Hey, Therese, I read Carol’s articles this morning. Are you doing okay? I hate all that happened. Shit, I wish I’d have been here that afternoon; maybe I could have helped Miriam out.”

“Thanks, Richard. I’m doing fine. Do you know Miriam?”

“Yes, I’ve sparred with her before. I was in a dojo back in Meridianville. I met her several years ago at a tournament.”

“Black belt?”

“Yep, second degree.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Thanks. Well, I’ll let you two get in out of the cold. I think I’ll run back down to the liquor store for that non-alcohol concoction. Thanks again for the advice, Carol.”

“Good night, Richard. Drive careful.”

Therese took the Champagne from Carol and carried it to the fridge. Carol unloaded the cheese, crackers, and marshmallows on the kitchen island.

They met in an embrace and kissed. The kiss was a long one. They pulled away, breathing deeply. Therese tucked her head under Carol’s chin. Their hearts raced.

“I got the den ready.”

“What? Let me see.”

Therese took Carol’s hand and led her through the dining room to enter the den's far side. Just the glow of the fire and the orange sunset illuminated the room. Therese had arranged an assortment of throw pillows, quilts, and sheets in a semi-circle to the front of the fire.”

Carol did a little happy dance. “How’s your noggin?”

“Fucking fantastic.”

“Let’s go try on that new lingerie.”

“You’re on, Lady. I put mine in the guest room. We can change in private and then slam each other with surprise.”

“I’ll say, ‘slam,’ you sexy thing.”

Therese rushed ahead of Carol and broke right at the top of the stairs taking the landing to the guest room. Carol was still on the stairs. Therese grinned down at her through the banister and winked. Carol felt her panties moisten from her wetness.

Carol emerged from the master bedroom wearing her pink chenille robe. She called softly, “Therese?”

“I’m down here.”

Carol smiled and hurried down the stairs. At the bottom, she noted that Therese had put up the baby-gate; Patty was asleep in Mouse's arms. Carol entered the den. Dusk had passed; just the firelight bathed her lover in flickering radiance. Therese’s own chenille robe was black.

They stood a few feet apart. Their eyes burned into one another’s.

“God, I’ve missed this.”

“Same here, Lady.”

They had both untied their belts. Their hands were poised for the unveiling. Neither had seen what the other purchased the afternoon before on Blanchard’s Department Store's third floor.

“You wanna go on three?” asked Carol.

“Okay, I’ll count. One, two, three!”

Therese exposed her black lace plunge crotchless teddy. The firelight glistened in her eyes as she took in Carol’s pink and black, floral embroidered garter belt, panties, and bra.

They tossed the robes onto the couch then closed their separation to a few inches.

“That’s some getup, Mrs. Aird.”

“Well, you have something missing, Miss Belivet.” Carol reached over and slipped her middle fingers into Therese’s dripping pocket.

Therese gasped, then gently bit her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and moaned as Carol gently worked her magic.

Carol commented, “Damn, that fire is hot.”

“I … uh … put another log on it … uh … before you got in.”

“Good idea. It’s raging.”

“I’m raging.”

“You are, dearest; you’re burning my fingers.”

Therese giggled.

Carol pulled Therese in with her other arm. “You’re shaking.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Here, let’s ease on down into this lovely nest you built for us.”

They melted to their knees then curled around one another in the eclectic mix of quilted cottons and soft linens. Carol never pulled her hand. She just kept working and working her love’s wet hot cunt.

Therese squirmed and wriggled as the fire-baked them. Sweat began to roll down or across their lovely backs, firm bellies, and ivory legs. Therese gasped and fired her knees towards the ceiling as her thighs quivered. “Oh, Carol! I’m coming … hard!”

Carol kept working her. Relentlessly taking Therese from one orgasmic wave to the next. Carol shocked her lover when she withdrew her fingers and immediately refilled the quivering space with her face. She noshed Therese’s vulva, tongued her vagina, and suckled her clit until Therese felt she had passed into a realm of endless erotic pleasure where Carol led her, fed her, and fucked her nonstop. Eventually, Carol cuddled up to her little limp dragon and buried them both in the mass of covers. They slept.

Therese awoke then Carol to the Methodist’s church bells chiming at ten. The fire had burned down. They shivered, taking turns darting to the downstairs facility and back. Therese heard Carol pause to love up Patty. “Are you okay, Baby Girl? Yeah, she’s a good girl. Yes, her is.

They donned their robes then scurried to the kitchen for wine, cheese, and crackers. Together, they placed another log on the fire, punched up the embers, and then closed the fire screen.

Therese bemoaned, “Oh, we forgot the marshmallows.”

“No, we didn’t!” Carol had slipped them in the robe’s big pocket. “Damn, I did forget something, the sticks.” She hopped up and darted to a skinny little closet a few feet to the left of the fireplace. She reached in, felt around for a few seconds, and pulled out two long, steel forks.

“How long have those been hanging in there?”

“Hell, I don’t know … as long as I can remember.”

Carol wiped the dust from them with a paper napkin then impaled marshmallows on the tongs.

“Now, be careful. If you get too close or hold the mallow in one place for too long, they’ll catch on fire.”

“No, shit?”

“Yep. Watch.”

Carol carefully poised her marshmallow near some embers on the edge of the fire. She spun her stick’s wooden handle to rotate the mallow’s brown side up and white side down. Therese watched intently. A few seconds later, Carol retracted her stick and plucked the toasted blob of sugar from the tongs. She took a bite. “Mmm, mmm, mmm! Here!” Carol passed the other half to Therese’s open mouth. Carol’s pussy quivered as she watched Therese’s succulent lips receive the treat.

“Shit! That’s so fucking good. Are you sure it’s legal?”

Carol tilted her head back, laughing. Therese smiled with joy; Carol's laugh was food for her soul.

Therese began to toast her own mallow while Carol reloaded her stick. Therese avoided flaming out her first one, but Carol got overheated and slipped her robe back over her shoulders to drop to her waist. The distraction of the unlined plunge bra was too much. Carol exclaimed, “You’re on fire!”

Therese stayed calm, pulled the flamer, and blew it out. She started to punish herself by eating the charred mess. Carol insisted, “No, you will not! That’s gross. We’ve got plenty. Here roll that up in this napkin and charge it off to losses.”

As Therese complied, she mocked, “Charge it off to losses? You sound like Abby or Armansky.”

Carol smirked.

They passed on the cheese and crackers for the time being. After a few sips of wine, they sprawled out next to one another sans robes and watched the fire. After a while, Therese propped up on an elbow and said, “Okay, Lady, it’s your turn.”

“I’d love that, but I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“Overdo it? I’ll make you think overdo it. Spread ‘em, Carol Aird!”

Carol spread her legs. Therese crawled between them and started by kissing Carol’s navel. She methodically worked her way down to Carol’s inner thigh. Therese kissed one leg then the other, gently arousing her lover.

‘Your piercings are hot.”

“Thanks.”

“No … well, they are hot … but I meant the fire has heated them … they tickle.”

“I’m sorry. I can stop this and do something different.”

“Don’t you dare! I’m not complaining … I’m just … well, fascinated.”

Therese resumed her kisses and nibbles. She worked down the right leg to Carol’s ankle then switched to the other. She came up to her navel again, then hooked Carol’s beautiful panties and slipped them off. Therese pleasantly surprised Carol by rolling her lover over and having Carol perch on her knees. Therese got on her own knees then buried her face in Carol’s peach. Carol screamed, “Jesus! I wasn’t ready for that. Do it, honey puss. Shit! That feels really good. Eat me, girrrrl!”

And Therese did. She loved how her “Lady” was such a contradiction. All class and poise in public but a she-devil in bed. Thusly imbued, Therese flat tore her lover up!

At ten to midnight, Carol turned on the TV in the living room and raised the volume then she grabbed the Champagne and glasses. She returned to her lover’s arms so they could listen to Dick Clark talking them through the ball dropping in Times Square. They pretended it was not a replay of what happened an hour earlier Eastern Time. Carol popped the cork and filled their glasses. They drank a toast to their love and happiness. They kissed. When they came up for air, Therese commented, “You are the best damn kisser in the world, Lady!”

“No, you are, my little honey puss.

“That’s what you really like to kiss, my ‘honey puss’.”

Carol asked, “Do you want me to right now?”

Therese rose to her knees, wriggled out of the teddy, then lay down, presenting her deliciousness to Carol. “Yes.”

Carol laughed, remembering a line from _Star Trek_ , “And now, to boldly go where no man has gone before!”

Cackling away, Therese commanded, “Well, get busy, Captain!”


	19. All Grown Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/xV3OxRu)  
>  On to zero and 90!

Abby’s Thursday afternoon meeting with the board went well. She couldn’t wait to call Therese. “Scrub, is Therese down there?”

“No, Abby, she just left. She finished the photos she was working on then headed out.”

“Dang! Okay, thanks.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Oh, Abby?”

“Yes?”

“These pics she just turned in … they’re awesome.”

“That’s good to hear. Get them up to Harry ASAP.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Abby hung up and distractedly stared at the phone. A gentle knock carried Abby’s eyes from the phone to her doorway. It was Therese.

“Hey, I just called down for you.”

“Oh, well, here I am. What’s up?”

“First, what did you need?”

“Oh, I just wanted to tell you again what a nice time I had at your place on New Year’s Day. Thank you.”

“No, thank you for being there. Did Dannie and Phil enjoy it?”

“They did. They loved looking through those photo albums with Mr. Rod.”

In a surprised tone, Abby remarked, “They really did enjoy that, didn’t they?”

“Yes, Ma’am. They’re both history buffs, and they love World War II stuff. I thought they were going to faint when he had you go get that pistol a German officer surrendered to him in 1945.”

Abby laughed, “I know. They made him feel young again. I could tell by the sparkle in his eyes.” She stood and walked to Therese. “Come in and have a seat.”

Therese did so then grew a little nervous as Abby closed the door behind her.

“Therese, I met with the board this morning. Mr. Barker went on and on about our new photographer. Some of the others chimed in agreeing with him.”

“Wow, that’s exciting.”

“I had to remind them that you were freelance. Guess what?”

“I don’t know.”

“They want me to offer you a full-time job as one of our staff photographers.”

“Oh, my gosh!”

“Yes.” Abby reached to her desk and lifted a slip of paper. She handed it to Therese. “That’s the hourly rate we can pay you, and after 30 days, you’d be eligible for our health insurance. There are two weeks per year paid vacation as well.”

“This is like a dream." Therese paused then asked, "But I guess I’d have to quit working for Your Security, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We can’t have you poking around alleys and county roads stalking unfaithful spouses.”

“I need to talk to him first.”

“Dragan?”

“Yeah,” Therese sighed.

“He loves you like a daughter, doesn’t he?”

“He does, Abby.”

“I bet he’ll be excited for you, Therese.”

“He will, but—”

“You want to discuss it with him out of respect.”

“I do.”

“Well, take your time, talk to him, and let me know.”

Therese stood. “I’ll try to catch him right now.”

Just as Therese reached for the doorknob, Abby said, “Hey, even if you pass on this, be ready. We’re going to throw you a shitload of work.”

Therese exited and hurried down the hall. Carol was talking with Erika and another reporter in Erika’s office. Carol saw Therese and gave her an inquisitive look. Therese did not want to interrupt her. She just shot Carol a girlish grin and waved.

Carol thought, _What are you up to, Little Miss?_

*****

“That is a marvelous opportunity for you, Therese.”

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

“It is considerate of you to consider my perception, but rest assured that I want nothing but the best for you. Sure, it will leave a void, but that is my problem to deal with, not yours.”

Therese hugged Armansky. “You are the kindest man in the world.”

He chuckled, “A lot of folks would disagree with you, but I’m glad you feel that way. I’ll always want to be a part of your life; keep in touch, or I’ll be heartbroken.”

“Of course I will.”

“Now, one thing … you must remain on our health insurance plan until you are fully eligible for the _Star-Herald’s_.”

“Oh, I haven’t considered that.”

“You must pay attention to such matters, Therese. It’s the mundane that will bite you on the rear.”

“Do you have any last assignments for me before I accept Abby’s offer?”

He fibbed, “No. Your timing is excellent. I will have Connie prepare the separation documents. Between you and I, you were a freelancer; but legally, you were a twenty-hour employee.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“By the way, we are no longer boss and worker. We are friends. I insist you call my Dragan, or Drag if you prefer.”

“I was thinking of Papansky.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded with a devilish grin.

“Very well … ‘Papansky!’ I like that.”

Therese hugged him again and kissed his cheek. I’m going to shop for some new clothes and get a haircut.

He chuckled, “Very good.” He watched her turn to depart his office, then asked, “I’ll see you around?”

“Count on it.”

*****

The DA and ADA had concluded their review of the Bodine/Hughes case when the DA remembered something. He reached in his side drawer and removed a small Tupperware bowl. “This cigar butt from old Riley Airfield.”

“Boss, that’s thin. I mean, we’ve long had suspicions about that airstrip being used to run drugs, but given the types of folks that run them …”

“Yeah, they’d be likely to have access to Cuban smokes.”

“Exactly.”

“I still think we should set up some video surveillance out there, at least for a while.”

“Which agency or law enforcement body can we use? The informant could be with any of them.”

“That’s why I called Armansky yesterday. He’s getting me a quote.”

“You sure are putting a lot of trust in that guy.”

“I know, but my gut feelings about him say he’s okay.”

“Well, I’m not one to argue with your gut feelings, Boss.”

*****

Armansky was the only person that addressed Plague by his real name. “Jonathan?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“I have a special project for you.”

“Great. Do you want me to come up there now?”

“No, how about four?”

“I’ll be there at four.”

“Good. Hey, bring one of those new surveillance cameras with you. I have some questions about them.”

“Will do. See you at four.”

“Bye.”

*****

Before departing Your Security, Therese used the phone in the break room. She was glad no one else was in the break room at the moment. First, she called Abby accepted the full-time position. Abby was thrilled and told her to report at eight o’clock sharp in the morning. Next, Therese called Carol’s desk.

“Carol Aird?”

“Carol, it’s me.”

“Hi, Cutie, what’s up with you?”

“I have some big news. Can you take the rest of the afternoon off? I need help … well, more like expert advice.”

“I think so. Can you hold a sec?”

“Sure.”

Carol picked back up a half-minute later. “It’s a go! Where are you at right now?”

“I’m at Your Security. Can you meet me at the house? I’ll park the bike and hop in your car if that’d be okay.”

“Oh! Where are we going?”

“Sorry.”

“You imp.”

“That’s me.”

*****

Therese went through the drive-thru at the bank and cashed her two checks, one from the paper and one from Your Security. She raced home and had her bike covered in the barn just before Carol pulled up. Carol waved. Therese sprinted to the Bronco.

Therese excitedly told Carol about her new job and the conversation with Armansky. Carol was apprehensively thrilled, especially after Therese described the assistance she needed.

Carol mentally pondered as she drove. How could she keep her sweetheart’s unique spirit and style while properly attiring her for the mixed bag of day-to-day photo ops? Carol knew where to start. “What kind of outfits were you thinking of, Therese?”

At the mall, they found a pair of dressy designer jeans and some tapered slacks. Carol insisted on buying Therese a dressy jumpsuit that might prove extremely versatile for outside work. Two sweaters and two blouses later, they were feeling pretty successful. Carol mentioned, “What about something for the occasional … shall we say, nicer events? You won’t be expected to be in a business suit or dressy-dress, but you’ll need to blend in.”

Therese was drawing a blank, and Carol could see it on her face.

Carol smiled, “Hey, I’ve got someplace in mind, but we’ll have to hurry to make that five-thirty with my hair-gal.” Carol had seen something at Blanchard’s while on last week’s lingerie-buy.

Therese gulped as she looked at herself in the changing room mirror. “Carol, I don’t know about this.”

“Well, come on out and let me have a look at you.”

Therese stepped out in a menswear-inspired burgundy jacket that covered a comfortable undergarment. Carol had suggested she tuck-in a 'just-elegant-enough,' silky, white scarf at the collar. That worked; it set off Therese's graceful neck. The jacket was belted; black in this case, the belt went with the loose-fitting dark pants perfectly. Carol loved the high ankle cuffs; they brought a certain 'Therese' to the getup.

“Oh, darling! You look fantastic. Hey, those flats you bought will be great with this. And let’s get some black heels for a dressier option. I saw a pair over in shoes just now. I bet they’ll have your size. Oh, and I want you to try this black skirt with it. If hemlines were required, you’d have that covered, too. And, I insist; all of these Blanchard’s items are my treat, a celebratory gift.”

“No, you already got me that cute jumpsuit.”

“I insist.”

“Fine, but, Carol … these padded shoulders?”

“Oh, you! They aren’t that padded, and it’s all the rage right now. We’ll look back on ’em in a decade and laugh our ass off, but for now …”

Around seven at Dream-Cuts, Therese could hardly stop looking at herself in the mirror. Elaine Canton had converted Therese’s punk-funk into a striking long-pixie. Carol and Elaine, the proud enablers, stood back admiringly. Carol wanted to cry. Therese turned to assess Carol’s expression. Carol quaked, “And now—you’re all grown up—with grown-up hair and grown-up clothes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/SorQSYQ)   
> 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/gpLCODG)  
> 
> 
> [](https://imgur.com/tVKU4Gm)


	20. "A Thousand Words"

Carol levitated in the darkness of her bedroom. Her ascension extricated a penis from between her legs. She glanced at her pillow to determine the shaft’s owner. Carol was aghast to behold Harge in his funeral pose; her last image of him was from the “open-casket” at his funeral. His eyes popped open, appearing as two white-hot slits. Carol mutely screamed. A physical state of total paralysis compounded that frustration. She fought to explode from this ghostly hold.

“Carol!” Therese yelled as she grabbed her lover’s arm. With no small effort, she managed to prevent Carol’s tumbling from their lofty bed. Therese struggled with Carol until the dreamer’s back was pressed into the mattress. She gently covered Carol with her own body. Teamed with the undulating warmth of the waterbed, Therese soon calmed Carol.

Therese asked about the nightmare but was guiltily relieved when Carol chose not to share. They soon faded back into sleep. Therese’s was deep. Carol fitfully struggled in a semiconscious state. A new dream started: Carol drove “Bronkie” through Boon Town. On its south side, she entered a familiar, hundred-year-old neighborhood of meager, hit-and-miss houses. She watched her speed; it was a school zone. _Finally!_ The city street became Holt Mountain Road after passing under 82 Alternate Highway West. She was happy. It was a pleasant day befitting a country drive. Pastures lined each side of the two-lane stretch; some contained horses with recently dropped fillies and colts. As Carol neared the base of the mountain, a terrible foreboding clinched her. Weirdly, she self-counseled, _Wake up bitch! You’ve had enough of this shit._

Carol gently lifted Therese’s arm from her chest and rolled off the bed easing to her feet. Patty emerged from her crate in the corner of the bedroom; they hardly ever latched her door. Carol glanced at the clock and was disgusted to see that it was three-thirty, the heart of the “Devil’s Hour.”

Carol took Patty out in the foggy backyard. She urged the hound along; everything was creepy in the wee hours. Carol sighed with relief when Patty trotted towards the porch. Carol dead-bolted the door after they entered the kitchen. She fed Patty and made a single mug of coffee. Sure that she would sleep no more, Carol murmured, “Aird, you’re going to feel like shit by noon.” Seeking a bit of positivity, she reminded herself that it was Friday.

Carol reclined in Mouse but not so far as to prohibit sipping her mug of Eight O’clock. She glanced at the couch where she and Therese had sat and cried a few hours earlier. The day before had been emotionally taxing. After Therese’s exciting clothes and hair outing, Carol was saddened to see Therese descend into self-doubt later in the evening. Carol tried to coach her girl up before bedtime, but her efforts were partly successful at best. Carol now realized that she had been pulled down about as far as she pushed Therese up.

Carol thought of her insecure ingénue floundering in this new world. Yes, it would be different. She had been in and out at the paper recently as a freelancer. Under that guise, Therese could still be the closed and artsy photographer. Now she had to “get along.”

Therese had opened up to Carol several times since they met. The girl shared her heart and soul with Carol, as did Carol with her. Carol believed they were becoming as close as two people could. Carol knew what a private person Therese was, and Carol clearly understood how most past coworkers misinterpreted Therese’s defensive reserve as sullen disdain. Therese had even confessed that not all, but one thing she liked about her facial piercings was their repelling closed-minded and opinionated people. “Half the battle won,” Therese had said. Carol sniffled as she fought back the tears.

Patty came over. When Carol opened her hand, the dog hopped up and blanketed Carol with what she called “the silky hot-water bottle effect.” Carol placed her almost empty mug on the nearby coaster and stroked her pet. The dog’s unconditional love and physical attributes sent endorphins surging through Carol; she fell fast asleep.

Therese, awakened by their clock radio, came down at six-thirty and was relieved to find Carol and Patty snoozing away. She started to ease Carol awake with a whisper when the phone rang. Therese grabbed it on the first ring but saw Carol stir and grin at her.

“Hello.”

“Therese?”

“Hi, Abby.”

“Hey, I want to pick you up at seven-thirty; tell Carol just to head on in to work. Unless there’s some fucking photo emergency, you’re going to spend the day with me.”

“What? Abby, I’d probably be in your way.”

“Nonsense, I want you right by my side unless confidentiality or policy prohibits it now or then.”

“Well, okay. If you really think—”

“I do. Carol called me from Elaine’s. Wear that thing with the shoulders. I’m going to introduce you around and take you to lunch. We’ll go to Dale’s; Carol can join us if her schedule allows. She said you bought heels, but I imagine you never wear such … practice with those later. I want you comfortable; wear the flats.”

“Do I need to take out some of the piercings?”

“Don’t you dare, young lady, I love them! Erika loves them! Okay?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Did you sleep well?”

Therese lied, “Yes.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, go get ready, girl. I’ll call ahead to Hatter for coffee and sweet rolls. Energy! Right?”

“Right!”

“Tell Carol to get her fine ass out of Mouse and get going. Erika has some fun assignment for her today … maybe a thousand words.”

“Alright.”

“Hey, I’m so glad you’re on board.”

“Thanks.”

“Bye-bye.

“Bye.”

Therese hung up and looked at Carol.

Carol was beaming; she had caught the entire conversation. Carol thought, _Abby, I love you!_

With that fiery light back in her green eyes, Therese asked, “So, I’m dating both of you now?”

Carol laughed.

Patty yawned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/eOv6wL9)  
> That wasn't as easy as it may seem. Saturday afternoon fun!


	21. Falling Deeper

Sally Police Lieutenant Mack Dugger parked on Blocker Lane at five-to-eight on Friday night. He anxiously tapped his fingers on his steering wheel. He drove his personal car to the rendezvous after lying to his wife about needing to get some Metamucil from Kmart. Actually, he had picked some up earlier in the week and stuffed it under his car seat. She urged him to skip it a night, and she would pick some up for him on her Saturday morning grocery run.

“Hell no, Babe. I already missed last night, and I don’t want to miss two in a row and get stove up.” Thank goodness she declined his considerate offer to pick up anything for her; he really didn’t want to loop from all the way back across town to Kmart after his meeting.

The isolated road was the main drag of a bankrupt, 1970’s residential development; it contained eighty lots with curbs and gutters but no houses. Mack was thrilled to see headlights appear in his rearview mirror at seven. Sometimes the “director” was late. After the director pulled up behind Mack’s Cutlass, Mack stepped out of his car and hurried back to enter the director’s Lincoln's passenger side.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’ll get right to it, Mack. Miami called and insisted on keeping a presence in North Alabama.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Goddammit, I thought we were done with this shit.”

“I did, too, but we aren’t.”

“Fuck.”

“Are you ready to stop whining and go to work on this?”

Mack ground his fist nervously in his palm. “What do you want me to do?”

“A flight is going to land at Riley on Monday morning sometime between two and three.”

“Bodine and his guys always did the heavy lifting on this shit. How am I—”

“You were always there, though, right?”

“Yeah, but I was just protecting our interest.”

“Do you know these guys that Bodine and his boy used?”

“I do … sorta.”

“Good.”

“But who is going to distribute into dealers. And if you say me, I might as well go lock myself up at county right now.”

“You’re funny, Mack. No, I got somebody that can do it, the Tate brothers.”

“Those skinhead Nazi freaks? Oh, Hell naw!”

“They’ll be fine.”

“Boss, the black dealers won’t transact shit with those guys.”

“The Tate’s will only handle the white dealers. Conroy Fuqua will pick up his community’s share and distribute to the black dealers.”

“Your Conroy?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m feeling a little better about this now.”

“You’ll feel a lot better when you get your cut.”

“Oh, speaking of that.” Mack opened a brown paper bag he had carried from his car. “I made it a point to ride in the van with the tubs of cash from Bodine’s place. I slipped two bundles of hundreds out of one of the tubs.”

“You fucking idiot!”

“Relax, nobody saw me, and this was well before we counted it all back at the station. Here!” Mack handed the director the bag.

The driver tapped his overhead light and stared down in the bag. “Shit! How much is that?”

“Five hundred Franklins!”

He whistled, “50K! Dang! … How much did you keep?”

“None of it.”

The director stared down Mack for several uncomfortable seconds. “You know what? I fuckin’ believe you.”

Mack nodded.

The director pulled two of the five straps from the bag and said, “Here, take two of these packs. I would split it right down the middle with you, but we don’t need to sit here long enough to break one. Besides, that’ll reimburse me for the hit.”

“Who did you get to do that?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“No … I guess not.”

“I didn’t think so. All right, then; let’s get out of here. I’ll be in touch.”

Mack opened his door. “See you.”

“You, too.”

“Hey, Mack?”

“Yeah.”

“The killing of Hughes was all on Bodine. I had nothing to do with that.”

“I have no doubt. Is that what tipped you off as to Bodine and Niedermann’s plan to pull up stakes?”

“Yep.”

“And Miami was okay with the hit you ordered?”

“They understood.”

Mack nodded, shut the car door, and plodded back to his car.

*****

Carol and Therese walked out of the Cinema Twin movie theater at a quarter to eleven. They had caught the 7:15 p.m. showing of _Silkwood_.

In the Bronco, they patiently waited for the post-movie parking lot gridlock to dissipate. Therese opined, “That movie was excellent, but it was sad. Cher is so fucking hot.”

“Yes, but I’d go for Meryl.”

“Oh, you would,” Therese stated judgmentally.

“What? After twenty-one days, you think you know me?”

“I do.”

Carol poked Therese’s ribs.

Therese poked Carol’s thigh.

Carol stared at Therese in the flickering headlights until Therese returned the gaze. Therese’s glistening eyes and pursed bottom lip made Carol moist. “I was going to take you to split a Molten Brownie at Stillwater’s, but now I have wet panties.”

Therese chuckled then announced, “Hey, they’re letting you enter!”

“Oh, okay.” Carol eased the 4X4 into the flow of traffic.”

“Do you think we’ll always be able to do that to each other?”

“Do what?”

“Make each other cream so easily.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“You’re sure of it?”

“Yes. I bet you’re wet, too.”

“I am not.”

Carol reached over and pried her fingers into Therese’s jeans. “Liar; let me check?”

Therese wiggled away from her hand, laughing, “No! I’m dry as a bone.” Her back was now against the door, with her legs curled up defensively on the seat.

Carol reached over again and grabbed her lover’s belt buckle. “Let me check?”

“No! Hey, you’re going to have a fender bender if you don’t … oh!”

“I knew it.” Carol withdrew her hand. “Let’s go parking!”

Therese laughed, “Parking? What the fuck, Lady? Nobody over eighteen goes parking.”

“Well, I think it would be fun. Imagine us doing it in Bronkie out on Blocker Lane.”

“Yeah, it would be fun until Lois and Jimmy show up in the paper arrested for public indecency.”

“Oh … and that would be our newspaper.”

“Fuck yeah, ‘our newspaper,” and what would your Momma think?”

“My Momma?”

“Abby Dabby Doo.”

“Abby is not my Momma.”

Therese chuckled at the irritation she roused in Carol.

Carol hissed, “Girl, you got one shit-eatin’ grin!”

“I don’t want a Molten Brownie. Take me home to our bed, and I’ll make your pussy molten.”

“Scotty, beam me us up.”

“I know! Who gets caught in a traffic jam in Hickville?”

“We do, evidently.”

Therese slipped her hand through the front of Carol’s jacket and located her nipple beneath the blouse and thin bra. She toyed with it. “You should get these babies pierced.”

“Ouch! No fuckin’ way, my little pincushion.”

“Aw, now, it would be fun. I’ll go with you and hold your hand.”

“Stop. Nobody is touching this pair but you and my gynecologist.”

“A gynecologist, maybe I should go to one of those someday.”

“You’ve never been?”

“No. You see, I’ve never had any problems down there, and I’ve sure as hell never needed birth control. Where do you go? Do you see a woman?”

“The Pussy Palace, and yes.”

“The Pussy Palace? Oh, yeah, that group on Heller Drive.”

“That’s it.”

“Scary.”

“Scary? It shouldn’t be, darling. ‘I’ll go with you and hold your hand.’”

“Ha-ha, Lady.”

“I mean it.”

“Well, I’ll think about it.”

They were now in the light traffic of Sally Boulevard. Carol said, “You looked good in that outfit today.”

“If you say so. I felt silly.”

“Silly? You should have heard the water cooler chatter about you.”

“Fuck no! I’m not listening. Ahhh!”

Carol reached over and grabbed Therese’s arm, shaking her teasingly. “They said you were cute, or hot, or exotic, or—”

“Shush, you!”

Carol complied and concentrated on the exit to Five Points.

At the house, they took Patty out together, holding hands in the dark.

“Therese, did you mean that about molten pussy.”

“No, I was kidding. What the fuck, Carol? Of course, I meant it.”

“Hurry, Patty; be a good girl and do your business.”

“I’m about to get up in your business, Carol Aird. You are gorgeous in this moonlight!”

In the house, they put up the baby gates and raced upstairs. Jackets, tops, jeans, and underwear flew across the bedroom. The baby blue flannel sheets, handmade quilt, and comforter were pulled down to receive the heated couple.

They started kissing then rolled onto the bed with an exhilarating “slosh” from the mattress. Carol wanted to be taken; she stopped on her back. Therese was on top of her immediately like a tabby on a sparrow. Therese’s knees gripped Carol’s hips like a heavenly vise. She kissed Carol driving her tongue deep in Carol’s soft mouth.

Carol moaned, taking her hands to Therese’s ass. She squeezed and massaged the younger woman’s buns then ran her fingers down Therese’s hamstrings. Therese pulled out of the kiss to utter, “Carol, I love that … your hands. My God that feels so good.”

Carol smiled and double-downed on this favorably met fondling of her love.

Therese took her mouth behind Carol's ear. She kissed and nibbled, working her way down Carol’s neck. Carol gently drove her fingernails into the flesh of Therese’s derriere. Their breasts intermittently danced off each other’s jockeying for ranking among the dozen competing stimuli.

Therese scooted down to concentrate on Carol’s breasts. Carol’s tiny dragon took one in each hand, then suckled, kissed, and nibbled one nipple then the other. Carol loved the equal attention Therese paid to her mammillea. Therese shifted her knees between Carol’s legs. Carol wrapped her lower limbs around Therese’s back. Therese gasped. The sheer luxury of the silky wrap was overwhelming. She paused to enjoy it with her cheek pressed into Carol’s cleavage. They wriggled into one another, causing both to tremble.

Without warning, Therese slipped down further. Therese’s fingers spread Carol’s hood exposing her fragile appendage. Therese tasked her lips, teeth, and tongue to the stimulation of Carol’s exposed bud. She eased the fingers of her other hand into Carol’s quivering vaginal opening.

The center of Carol’s universe was now between her legs. She absolutely adored this woman that could bring her such mental and physical pleasure. There could never be another like Therese Belivet. She was sure of it.

Carol dug her fingernails into Therese’s scalp. Elaine’s cut and treatment had left her girl’s hair feathery soft. The strands danced between her fingers and tickled her wrists. Carol emitted a devilish giggle. The utterance fueled Therese. She intensified her oral attentions. Carol screamed as she came in waves. Therese was unrelenting. She wanted Carol to beg for mercy. But, the cessation came almost violently. Carol’s pelvis fired her legs out and up in an explosive spasm lasting seconds. Therese leaned back, mesmerized by what she had wrought.

They arose at eight, not wanting to sleep away their Saturday. The day was a nice one for a winter’s walk, 51˚ under a blue sky with slight breezes. They dressed in jeans, hooded sweatshirts, and hiking boots. Carol harnessed Patty and urged her up into the Bronco. Therese drove while Patty perched on the floorboard between Carol’s thighs on the passenger side. Therese commented, “Lucky dog.”

The famished couple picked up Hardee’s sausage biscuits and coffee at the corner. Then they took the curving Cypress Mill Road to nearby Kiwanis Park. Occupying a half-mile of Cypress Creek’s eastern bank, the old park’s origins dated back to the Great Depression; it was a CCC project. The local civic group had adopted its upkeep as a pet project in the 60s.

A dozen concrete picnic tables occupied the area between the parking lot and the creek. They ate their biscuit and drank their coffee while making googly eyes. Carol had put some Milk-Bones in her pocket for Patty. She rationed them out. They tossed their trash in a nearby garbage can after finishing breakfast. Carol took the lead for their walk. She had frequented the park since returning to Sally. A walking trail ran south along the creek.

Therese was not even aware of the park until this morning. She was impressed that Carol dared to walk the woodsy, cliff-side path by herself. Even with Patty, a two-legged predator was no small consideration. Therese subtly patted the mace in her jacket pocket. “I’m impressed that you would do this by yourself.”

“I’m not a total puss, Belivet.”

“I know that. It’s just that—”

“Relax, Ms. Security; I usually come on nice weekend afternoons when there are others here. Since you are with me today, I wanted to try this early morning hike when no one else was here. Aren’t the natural sounds lovely?”

Therese listened. The sound of the flowing creek and chirping birds was indeed special. The trail was a great little workout with ups and downs and blind curves bracketed by interesting winter flora.

Carol held her hand up, signaling Therese to stop. She pointed ahead. Therese looked to see the object of Carol and Patty’s attention. It was a doe. Perhaps a hundred feet ahead, the whitetail’s big eyes blinked at them. After a few seconds, the deer turned and departed. Therese watched its white flag disappear into the density of the forest. “I didn’t know there were deer in town.”

“Oh, yeah. They slip along the creek and nibble the old ladies’ rosebuds.”

Therese chuckled at the thought of the deer feasting on a flower garden.

Carol lead on until the path ended at a little overlook. Thirty feet below, a hollow’s dry creek bed emptied into Cypress. Therese visualized the torrential display following a good rain. She glanced at Carol’s smiling profile. Her girlfriend was a different person from when she’d met her, lighter of mood and optimistic. She wanted to take credit for some of that, and she was sure her own similar changes could be attributed to Carol’s gentle love for her.

They returned to the picnic area, got out a Frisbee for Patty, and played fetch and keep away with the leaping hound.

Their local movie rental place was open by the time they drove home. Carol and Therese rented two VHS tapes, a sappy romance, and a space opera. Back at home, they cuddled on the couch and watched the romance first. They were mutually embarrassed at their watering eyes. Therese buried her face in Carol’s hair, trying to hide her tears.

Carol squeezed her girl in close and stroked her hair. “I love you, Therese.”

Carol grinned upon hearing a muffled, “I love you, Carol.”


	22. Dangerous Clues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/6h9aBSm)  
>  1971 Toyota Land Cruiser

On Monday morning, Therese scanned the “REJECT” photos taken Friday-week-ago at Bodine’s farm. They were either bad pics, near duplicate culls, or shots that added nothing to the story. One of the “bad pics” caught her eye. It was a photograph of the Sally PD evidence van taken from the back. With the newspaper’s fancy auto-wind Nikon, she took six rapid-fire photos of the LE personnel packing up their vehicles. It was dusk. The light was poor, but she did not want to attract any greater attention to herself than necessary. She did not use a flash. She had changed to a fast film and a wide aperture. The pics were grainy.

A man’s hands and forearms were all that appeared between the barely open doors. It was what they were doing that intrigued her. She cursed herself, _Fuck, Belivet! Not again! How could I, actually we, have missed this?_ She located the negative and created an enlarged print. Clearer now, she reached for the phone. “Carol, can you grab Abby and come down to the photo lab. I’d bring this up there, but I’d rather not attract any attention until y’all have seen this pic.”

“Sure, Kitten, she just walked by with Erika. They were headed for the break room. We’ll be down in a shake.”

“Oh, don’t bring Erika!”

“Alright. This might take a few, then.”

“Okay, but as fast as you can.”

Carol and Abby entered the lab. No other employees were in the lab at the moment, so Abby closed the door and then asked, “Whatcha got, Therese?”

Therese explained the origin of the pics and then showed them her discovery. Carol examined the photograph for few seconds, then surmised, “It looks like Therese caught a hand in the cookie jar.”

Abby said nothing. She just nervously bit her bottom lip.

Carol asked, “Therese, those are the cash-tubs, right?”

“Yes.”

“And if I’m not mistaken, that’s one hand holding open the corner of the tub and the other reaching in it?”

Therese nodded. “I just wish I had taken a couple there or swept back across and taken another of the van. We might have been able to see who that is.”

Abby growled, “I know who that is. The only cops there were Sally PD. That is a cop’s sleeve, not a deputy. See those hashes on the forearms; each one represents five years service.”

Carol thought out loud, “Three … that’s at least fifteen years of service.” Then she glanced at Abby. “Mack has three hashes on his sleeve.”

“Yes, he does.”

Therese pointed out, “There were several other Sally cops there. Couldn’t any of the others have three hashes?”

Carol thought about Therese’s point. “Sergeant Napier has over twenty years of service, so he’s out.”

Abby added, “Those patrol officers seemed too young.”

Carol asked, “Should we go to the DA with this?”

Abby nodded, “I’ll call Fred and see if he is available to go with us.”

Therese asked, “Should I call the cops?”

Abby and Carol rolled their eyes at her.

*****

At a quarter-of-ten, Plague raced to Armansky’s door. Panting, he halted and knocked.

“Come in, Jonathan.”

Plague closed the office door and walked to Armansky’s VCR. “May I?”

“Certainly; is this from the airfield?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Armansky quickly noted the time stamp in the corner of the video’s image, 02:14, Monday, 01/09/84. “Early this morning?”

“That’s right. Let me fast forward a bit.” He pressed fast forward then quickly hit play; “This is it.”

A B-25 Mitchell World War II-era bomber in civilian paint floated across the screen with flaps down.

“That’s landing!”

Plague replied, “Yep. Wait; it taxi’s back in a few and stops right where Therese told you she found that cigar butt.”

It did. The plane’s engines slowed but did not turn off. A white Suburban pulled up behind the starboard wing. Two men got out of the vehicle. The bottom hatch of the B-25 opened, and three duffles were lowered to the men on the ground. As soon as they drove away from the aircraft, the plane's engines revved up, and it took off. The Suburban passed closer to the camera as it departed. Unfortunately, Alabama is a one-tag state; they could not see the license plate.

“Well done, Jonathan.”

*****

The Assistant District Attorney, Sheriff Cobb, and the DEA’s Agent Brigands entered Mack Dugger’s office just after two in the afternoon.

Mack looked up from his desk, read their expressions, and then stated, “I want a lawyer.”

*****

Plague and Therese chatted. He had copied the airfield video and was now enjoying his friend watching it. She had handed him a file with a copy of the "cookie jar" photo in it.

“You know what, Rez? I think I know that Suburban.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No.” He ran the tape back and then took his finger to the screen. “Watch as it backs up and turns away from the plane.” He paused the tape.

Therese focused on the spot he was pointing at. “Is that a dent?”

“More like a rusted gash. Before you moved here, I worked maintenance out at Vanger Industries.”

“In Sally Industrial Park?”

“Yep. It sucked, but that’s not the point. Sometimes, they’d send me to get parts and supplies. I drove the crappiest of their company vehicles.”

“That beat-up Suburban?”

“She’s the one; I’d swear to it.”

“Did you tell Armansky this?”

“No. I didn’t notice that damage until a little while ago. He’s been gone for hours. His gal said he might not be back until in the morning.”

“You know, Plague, whoever those guys in the Suburban are, they might have bought the vehicle from Vanger.”

“I thought about that, too.”

“Hey, do you remember where they parked that out at their facility?”

“Sure. Oh! What? Do you want to go out there and see if we can spot it?”

Therese nodded. Plague had to look away from her mesmerizing grin and dimples. “I’m caught up here. I'll take us in Safari Sam.”

“Okay, I parked the bike over in the corner of the lot. It won’t be in anybody’s way.”

Plague clocked out, and they made their way to his 71 Toyota Land Cruiser. It was bruised, dirty, and a little rusty, but Therese always loved her friend’s ugly tan Toyota. They cruised by Vanger at half-past-four. The Suburban was not to be found. Fearing that a second pass would raise suspicion, they parked at a C-store across Industrial Park Road, bought Iceeies, and contemplated their next move.

“Holy shit?” exclaimed Plague. “There it is.”

Therese glanced up to see the dirty-white Chevy enter the security gate. It went directly to the parking spot where Plague always parked it. Therese attached her telephoto lens and began popping shots.

“Can you see their faces from here with that thing?”

“I can, but I don't recognize them.”

“Can I take a look?” The men were headed towards a Jeep CJ-5 near the gate. Plague rushed to catch a glimpse of them before they got in their vehicle. “I know those fuckers. They’re a couple of racist mothers. They’re into all kinds of Nazi and militia shit.”

“What’re their names?”

Plague handed her back the camera and started his engine. “They are the Tate brothers. I don’t know their first names. Hold my Icee; I’m gonna follow them.”

The Tates exited Vanger and headed north on Industrial. Plague growled, “Uh-huh, just as I figured; I bet they’re headed out to their small engine repair place near St. Augustine.”

“Well, don’t get too close, biggun; they look and sound dangerous.”

“I won’t, littlun.”

The Tate’s meandered north on 43. St. Augustine was only a few miles south of Tennessee. Therese asked, “Which side of the St. Augustine crossroads is their business on?”

“This side, but you have to turn off the highway. It’s on the left, a quarter-mile down Hawk Road.”

Therese and Plague parked just off the highway before reaching Hawk Road. It was a concealed spot below a small bridge on Middle Cypress Creek. They did not want to get any closer to the Tates' shop. They took a circuitous path closing to within a hundred yards of their subjects. The woods surrounding a fallow cotton field provided concealment. Therese and Plague knelt behind some bushes at the base of a big, gnarly oak.

The brothers seemed antsy. They were fussing while toting small packages to and from the backdoor of their metal building.

“They're moving that shit, Rez.”

“Getting ready for distribution.”

“What should we do?”

“I didn’t tell anybody where I was going when I left the newspaper … not even Carol.”

“Same here; the only one I report to is Armansky, and he was gone.”

“Plague, you go into St. Augustine and use a payphone to call Carol.” Therese scribbled Carol's office and home numbers on a tiny spiral notebook. She ripped free the page and handed it to him. “Tell her what’s going on. She’ll know what to do.”

“I ain’t leaving you here!”

“I’ll be fine! I’m not going to break surveillance on these creeps. Go on now. After you get her, tell her you’ll wait for her or the law … whoever … at the bridge. I’ll be here, I promise. You can let me know one way or the other what’s going on when we know how the authorities want to handle all this.”

He stared at her with an expression of great concern.

“Go on. Times wasting.”

“Okay.”

A quarter-hour later, Therese tensed as a deep voice came from behind her. “Don’t move, girl; I got a .45 aimed at the back of your head. Put that camera down real slow, then stand up. If you try to run or scream or anything, I’ll blow your brains all over that cotton stubble.”

She complied and stood. It took every ounce of her being to keep from shaking. The temperature seemed twice as cold.

“Turn around real slow with your hands on top of your head.”

“As she turned, she viewed a tall man with Mozambique-black skin holding a pistol on her. The muzzle of the handgun looked cavernous from her perspective. He asked, “What’s your name?”

She refused to reply.

He stepped closer then, without hesitation, slapped her cheek. She crumpled to a knee, shook off the stinging pain then stubbornly stood back up.

“Well, ain’t you a tough little bitch. Tell me your goddam name!”

“Therese Belivet.”

“Therese? Shit, that sounds like a sista’s name. Was your daddy a brotha, little girl? You don’t look it.”

“No.”

“Well, let’s stroll on over to those redneck motherfuckers’ shop. I’ll carry your shit. Don’t you dare bolt, girl! I can hit a rabbit on the run with a pistol.”

Upon reaching the Tates' building, one of them stepped out. Shocked, he exclaimed, “Hey, Jesse, Martin’s man is out here, and he’s holding some chick at gunpoint.”

Jess stomped out, cursing, “What the hell are you talking about, Frank … Jesus fucking Christ! A man can’t get nothin' done for ... Oh! Hey, Fuqua, who is this cunt?”

“She says her name is Therese something or another.”

Frank blurted, “Therese? Shit, Jess, that’s the photographer woman from the paper.”

“Oh, yeah, the dyke whore that got that crooked politician whacked.”

Conroy Fuqua eyed his captive in a whole new light now.

Jesse urged, “Well, let’s get her in here before somebody drives by.”

They entered the building. Therese was repulsed. It reeked of motor grime, booze, weed, moldy jizz, and BO. Playboy and Penthouse centerfolds surrounded a framed velvet Elvis on the facing wall. The other three walls were covered with lawnmower and go-kart parts. A swastika and confederate flag were nailed flat to the ceiling.

“Tie her in that chair, Frank.”

Therese considered making her move. Once she was tied, she would be helpless, probably dead. She thought for a moment about how long Plague had been gone. Surely, help would be here soon. She decided not to resist.

Jesse assured, “We’ll do with her whatever Mr. Vanger or that fucking cop lieutenant tells us to do with her.”

Frank tied her ankles to the chair legs with electrical wire and bound her hands behind its ladderback with a lawn mower’s starter cord. He muttered, “Damn, Jesse, she’s a tight little thing. We ought to fuck her.”

Therese regretted her decision.

Conroy growled, “You two can fuck her after me. I’m gonna break-in this lezzie ho right for you rednecks.”

Jessed howled, “Aw-naw, man, our daddy will roll over in his grave if we take sloppy seconds behind a—”

“Behind a what, white-boy?”

Jesse huffed, but Conroy’s hand was poised over the Colt in his waistband. The skinhead demurred.

Frank whined, “You mean y’all are going to fuck her now? I just finished tying her to that fucking chair.”

Ignoring Frank, Conroy asked, “Where’s my shit?”

“It’s in that bag over there,” Jesse replied, pointing at the corner by the bathroom door.

Conroy grinned, “Nice! Okay then. Mr. Vanger said he’d call out here at six for an update, right?”

“Correct.”

“Well, we can pass the time banging this tiny piece of tail," slurred Conroy. As if Frank wasn't in the room, Conroy commanded, "Jesse, tell your retarded brother to start untying the bitch. I’m gonna take a piss; I ain't drained this snake since Birmingham. When I come out, I’ll help y’all strap her down to that table. You clear all that shit off of it.

The racist animals were furious, but the thought of violating Therese replaced their rage with lust.

Conroy stepped to the john, placed his handgun on the toilet’s tank, and dropped his pants to his knees. The Tates went to work to the sound of Conroy’s stream. Jesse helped Frank by unloosening Therese’s hands. Frank cursed the stubborn wire at her ankles. Foolishly, Jesse turned away and busied himself clearing the table.

Therese thought, _They don't fear me in the least. It's your mistake, motherfuckers._

Conroy nattered away, “Funny thing, there was a big guy with this girl. I bushwhacked him back under that little bridge just south of here. I whacked him on the head, then dragged his fat ass into his 4X4 and rolled it in the creek. If the smack of my gun didn’t kill him, the water in his lungs will.”

Jesse begrudged, “Shit, Conroy, you are one badass sumbitch.”

“That’s right, Tate, and don’t you forget it.”

Frank sighed as he freed the second of Therese’s leg bindings, “There!”

Therese was ready. Miriam had indeed taught her “some moves.” Cobra quick, Therese wrapped her arm around Frank's neck, pulling her chest tightly down onto the back of his head. Adrenaline filled, she grabbed her wrist with her other hand and rolled both of their bodies. She satisfyingly heard his neck snap. She gained her feet instantly and closed on Jesse. He had turned and managed to take a punch at her. She dodged it, then grabbed his jacket’s collar with her left hand. Therese pulled him off balance to his right while delivering a hammer-blow to his left temple with her fist. He collapsed. She turned to see Conroy naked-assed fumbling for his pistol. It must have fallen behind the slippery tank when she began her preemptive strike.

She grabbed a 10-inch monkey wrench as she raced across the room. As Conroy was vectoring the pistol towards her, she smashed his cranium with multiple blows. The pistol clattered to the floor with the first blow.

Therese was worried about her six. She picked up the .45 and turned. Jesse was trying to stand. The boys had taken Therese shooting once. They had inherited their grandfather’s Colt 1911 .45 pistol. They showed her how to operate the fierce weapon before turning her loose on the gravel pit’s beer bottles and soup cans. Therese had already noticed how Conroy was carrying “cocked and locked;” she thumbed off the safety and centered the now erect Jesse in her sights. Therese fired three times. Jesse sprawled back on the nasty worktable. They had intended it for her violation; Therese gave it a higher purpose.

She checked for a pulse on Conroy. There was none. “Oh, what the hell!" She shot him in the side of his head. Blood splatted about the toilet and Therese. She turned her attention to the brothers, shooting each of them in the head as well. She had a desperate mission ahead of her and had no intention of leaving a wounded monster to follow her. Therese raced from the repair shop, sprinting across the cotton field. There was just enough dusk left to illuminate her desperate race.

She reached the bridge and found no one there. Therese ejected the single-remaining round from the .45, then tossed it on the creek bank. Scanning the area, she spotted the top of “Safari Sam” in the deep center of the steam. The current must have carried it under the bridge.

She dove into the icy, green water and swam to the vehicle's side. Glancing in the windows, she could see Plague pressed up against the headliner above the backseat. His head was above water.

With considerable effort, Therese got the car door to open. Her lungs were exploding. She crawled up her friend’s massive frame and emerged with her head next to his. Gasping for air, Therese patted his cheek and cried, “Plague! Plague! Wake up, dammit. Oh, God, please wake up.”

He murmured, “Rez. Who fucked up Safari Sam?”f

“C’mon, buddy, we are sinking fast. You’re going to have to help me out, dude.”

It took Therese several long minutes to get Plague on the creek bank. They were both shivering profusely. She retrieved the Bic lighter from her coat jacket’s pocket and began to gather driftwood. Therese grabbed a nearby McDonald’s bag and used it to start a fire. She soon had a blaze going. Therese wasn’t sure about her semiconscious friend, but she was nearing shock. The blaze increased.

After a while, an old man tromped down from the road above. He had seen the bonfire’s glow in the darkness. “Hey, you kids can’t party down here. Y’all need to put that out and get outta here, or I’ll call the sheriff’s department.”

“Mister, please call the sheriff’s department.”

The old man was taken aback by the retort. He glanced around and spotted the Land Cruiser’s whip antenna protruding from the creek.

“Hold on, girl. I got a CB in my truck; I’ll get help. I'll bring y’all back a blanket, too.”

As he scrambled off, Therese trembled, “Thank you.”

*****

Martin Vanger arrived home at five-thirty, kissed his wife, hugged his children, and changed into a sweatsuit. “I’m gonna go work the iron for a while, Hon.”

“Okay, Darling, but dinner will be ready about six-thirty. It’s your favorite, pork chops.”

“Okay, that sounds good. I won’t be very long.”

Martin walked out to his combination gym and shop. The small structure was located on the far side of their pool. It was chilly in the shop, but he chose not to increase the heat. He stood for an inordinate amount of time staring at his barbells. The “director” closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. His anger surged. He wheeled and reached for the driver in his bag of custom-made golf clubs. With all the strength he could muster in his 205-pound 6-foot frame, he swung the beautiful head of the 1-wood into the shop's center I-beam. The persimmon inserts of the head shattered.

The news of Mack’s arrest was devastating. He knew the cop would turn state's evidence.

He took several deep breaths then pulled a Heineken long neck from the shop’s little fridge. He took a long swig. After calming, he lifted the nearby phone’s handset and speed-dialed number 16.

“Happy Travels! Maggie James, speaking.”

“Maggie, Martin Vanger here.”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Vanger, you’re lucky to have caught me. I was clearing my desk off.”

“Maggie, I’m sorry to catch you this late in the workday, but I need a favor.”

“Anything for you, Mr. Vanger.”

“That’s sweet, Maggie. What I need is a flight out of anywhere nearby to Bogotá.”

“Oh, me. Are you running away again for a golfing vacation with your South American buddies?”

“Guilty as charged, Maggie,” he chuckled.

“This winter weather is getting old, isn’t it?”

“It is. Can you help me out, sweet lady?”

“Surely, but when you say ‘nearby,’ are we talking Huntsville-nearby or Atlanta-nearby?”

“Either. Anything.”

“Well, you are ready for some fun in the sun. Okay, I’ll call my regionals and get back to you with three or four options. Oh, are you traveling alone?”

“Yes.”

“I understand. I’ll call back within a half-hour.”

“Thanks, Maggie.”

“No. Thank you, Sir!”

Martin glanced at the clock. It was close to six. He speed-dialed 21 for the Tates. It rang and rang and rang.


	23. Clouds Lifting

Martin Vanger’s wife was less than understanding about Martin’s hurried departure on a Monday night. For all the headstrong and sometimes impulsive things her husband had done, this took the cake. “Off for Texas at eight in the evening!” It was absolutely ridiculous.

“I’m sorry, Hon. It can’t be helped; the future of the company depends on this meeting.”

When Martin leaned down to kiss her goodbye, she turned her head to dismissively receive a peck on the cheek.

He closed the door and scurried for his car. The suitcase he carried contained only a single change of clothes and his Dopp kit. The rest of the space was filled with the cash horde from his gun safe.

Martin had not parked in the garage that evening. He had backed the Lincoln in his driveway. As the fleeing scoundrel approached the car, two shotgun-wielding figures stepped from the shadows. The floods from his house enabled Martin to read the three letters on their ball caps, _DEA_.

*****

Agent Brigands approached Carol and Therese with a Styrofoam cup of coffee in each hand. The women smiled at him. He grinned, “These are from the snack shop in the lobby, not that mess from the machine down the hall.”

Carol said, “How did you know we were just saying how a cup of coffee would hit the spot?”

“I’ve got a bug in the ceiling.”

The couple laughed and took the coffees, then chimed in unison, “Thank you!”

“My pleasure, ladies.” He reached in his field jacket’s pocket and pulled out Mini-Moos and sugar packets, then placed them on the lamp table by Carol.

Carol passed a creamer to Therese and took one for her own steaming cup.

He sat down across from them in the small “Intimate Family Waiting” room. “How’s your man doing?”

Therese answered, “His doctor said the X-rays look good. His head hurt badly. They gave him some painkillers after reviewing his test results, but they had observed him for a couple of hours by that time. I’m glad he didn’t suffer from something like that mini-coma thing I had.”

“Me, too, Therese … sorry, do you mind if I call you—”

“It’s fine, Agent Brigands.”

“Then y’all call me Harvey.”

Therese and Carol had to stifle chuckles. The tough-looking Fed did not look like a “Harvey.”

“That’s good news. It sounds like he was lucky. Lucky to have a friend like you, Therese.”

She blushed. Carol patted her arm.

Harvey said, “I thought Armansky would be here.”

Carol replied, “He is. Drag just went down to borrow the hospital administrator’s phone.”

“Okay, well, I … oh, hi, Armansky.”

“Hello, Brigands.”

“I’m glad you are here. I just wanted to inform y’all that we took Martin Vanger into custody a couple of hours ago.”

“Very, good!” exclaimed Armansky.

“Yes, and, Therese—” Harvey leaned a bit towards her “—a few minutes later, and he might have slipped away. Vanger had booked a midnight flight out of Nashville to Mexico with a change to Colombia. If not for your tip … well, I hate to think about it.

A nurse stepped up to the door. “Folks, Doctor says that two of you can visit with Jonathan if you’d like. He’s drowsy, but we think it would help him rest easier to talk with loved ones for a few minutes.”

Therese and Armansky left with the nurse.

Harvey and Carol sat back down. Harvey asked, “So, you brought dry clothes to Therese?”

“I did, and when she was in the ER earlier, they let her use a shower closet.”

“Good. Uh, frankly, I’m shocked about how strong and calm she looks. I mean … do you know exactly what all she did earlier?”

“Well, no. She has not gone into the details, and I wanted her to share with me when she was ready. Harvey, what should I know?”

“Well, she defended herself from three violent criminals, all big strong men.”

“Oh, my God! Are they under arrest now?”

“Well, no. Actually, they’re dead. She killed them, Carol.”

“What?”

“Yes, she engaged them in what we call “close quarter battle.”

The journalist murmured, “CQB.”

That’s right … you’ve heard the term. The best we can tell, it was classic, with all three CQB elements: surprise, speed, and violence of action.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Really? You see? Cause, I don’t. Therese mentioned something about being drilled in self-defense by that Miriam Wu, who saved her week before last, but I don’t get it, Carol. And not just the fight she won against heavy odds, but the fact that she’s not experiencing any visible signs of PTSD.”

Carol sipped her coffee and contemplated what Harvey had just told her. “Harvey, she’s had a rough and tumble life. Orphaned for all practical purposes at twelve, institutionalized, foster homes, and then …” Carol paused.

After a few seconds, Harvey gently prompted, “Then?”

“Um, well, she was on the streets for a couple of years in Birmingham and a couple of other Alabama cities.”

“Oh. I see. Man, a tiny kid like her all on her own. Damn, there’s no telling the scraps she’s been in.”

“And the violence she’s witnessed … and survived.”

“Well, I was in Nam, Carol, and I’ve been in some Mexican border altercations. This may hit her later. Just in case, you need to be prepared.”

*****

On Wednesday, January 25th, Therese was walking out of Your Security. She had taken Armansky a birthday card and box of candy; she always found the curmudgeon’s sweet tooth amusing.

“Hey, Therese!”

She glanced over to the employee parking area and spotted Plague waving at her. He pointed vigorously back to his left. Therese grinned, seeing his Land Cruiser in its usual parking slot. She hurried to examine it, giving him a big hug on the way. He laughed, “I bet that’s the cleanest you’ve ever seen it.”

She nodded in agreement. “I heard the boys were working on it for you. I guess they aren’t worthless after all.”

“Naw, not hardly.”

“Were you saying happy birthday to the man?”

“I was.”

“I’ve got him two pricey cigars from that new shop in the mall.”

“He’ll love those. Big and stinky?”

“Oh, yeah. One of ’em’s green.”

“Fuck no! I hope he smokes them on the moon.”

“Truly.”

“Well, I better get back to the paper.”

“I hear ya. Hey, Rez?”

“Yeah.”

“We still miss you around here.”

“Two of you, maybe.”

“Aw, you.”

“Take care of yourself, Biggun.”

“You, too, Littlun.”

*****

Therese parked her bike in the _Sally Star-Herald_ lot and hurried to clock in. Carol stepped out, obviously on her way to lunch.

“Did Drag like it?”

“Of course!”

Carol laughed. They shared heart-bursting smiles. Carol grinned, “Guess what?”

“They said yes.”

“They did; Abby and Erika cleared both of us for a vacation in April.”

“The third week?”

Carol nodded excitedly. Therese’s dimples made her want to take her lover home and ravish her. “I called and made reservations at Gulf State Park Lodge.”

“God! I can’t wait. We’ll you help me pick out some swimsuits?”

“Are you kidding me? I’d pay to do that.”

They subtly grasped hands for a second then went their separate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/khtGa5R)


	24. Ever Closer

On Friday, April 13, 1984, Carol and Therese rendezvoused at the house. Carol had worked feverishly since seven that morning to clear her desk and tie up loose ends; she got home in the evening at half-past-seven. Therese had become quite the sports photographer; the Sally High School boys’ baseball team played a doubleheader that afternoon to make up for an earlier rainout. Usually, such a photo assignment would involve snapping a few action shots then departing. In this case, Erika had assigned the sports reporter to cover not only the game but the spectators of the two river towns as well. Erika tasked the reporter to find the passion, loyalty, and spirit of the communities. The reporter had asked, “Can I get Belivet on this one?” Therese delivered the film at eight. Scrub insisted, “We got this. Get outta here, Rez! Enjoy your vacation.”

In the barn, Therese secured her motorcycle with a chain and padlock for the upcoming week. She covered it with the tarp and sprinted to the back porch. Carol had stepped out to greet her and was waiting with open arms on the porch. They hugged and kissed. Therese stated, “This is going to be great!”

“It is, Sweetheart. I bet you’re tired.”

“I’m okay; that game was fun.”

“Did you grab something at the game for supper?”

“Yes, I wolfed down two hotdogs in-between game one and two.”

“Good. I finished off that pasta from last night. How did Sally do?”

“We lost the first game by one run but took them 8 to 3 in the second.”

“Eight runs … wow!”

“Yeah, Mike Armansky hit a three-run homer in the 6th!”

“Oh, my! Was Drag there?”

“Yes! He was one proud uncle.”

“I bet!”

They stepped into the kitchen, where Patty insisted that Therese love on her for a minute. “Are you sure she’ll be all right, Carol?”

“She’ll be fine. Last year, after I returned from that seminar in New York, I thought Abby was going to cry when her twice-a-day Patty visits ended.”

“Well, we’re lucky to have someone like Abby to take care of her.”

Carol now had Patty’s soft, floppy ears in her hands; she baby talked to the hound. “Yes, we are lucky! And Patty Girl loves her Abby, doesn’t she? Yes, her does! And, oh! Abby said Erika would probably tag along a couple of times. Yes, indeed, Baby Girl! You can snook between Ms. Erika’s big boobs.”

Therese cackled at owner and pet for a second, then rushed off to change. She was shocked upon reaching the foot of the stairs to find a neat row of suitcases, beach bags, and an ice chest lining the southern wall. “You are an angel, Carol Aird!”

“Well, some might argue with you, but you do bring out the best in me.”

Therese leaned down from the second step laying a prolonged kiss into Carol’s luscious mouth. Therese broke it off, shaking her head, “Damn! I’m sorry, but we’ll never get out of town …” As she pranced up the stairs, she asked, “Did you shower?”

“No, but feel free to take one. It was probably sticky at that ball game.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, we’ll be driving all night anyway and won’t be able to check-in until noon. Hey, I think I will get a quick one down here after all.”

At five after nine, Carol locked the front door and waved at Patty in the window. The Bronco was parked on the street at the end of their walkway. Therese closed the hatch and asked, “Are you sure you want to drive first?”

“Yes, I’m so excited; I want something to keep me busy. Hey, did you get the coffee?”

“Uh-huh. Did you call the neighbors?”

“I did, and I even remembered to stop the paper for the week.”

“It’s funny that you get the paper when they’re free for us at work.”

“Hey, I always subscribe to the paper I work for … you know, support the team.”

“Carol Aird, you ARE a newspaperwoman!”

“Damn straight, and don’t you ever forget it, Dragon Girl.”

They held their hands and closed their eyes for a second or two. “You good, Darling?”

“I’m very good! Let’s roll!”

“We gone!”

Therese yelled with a wave aimed at the house, “By Patty!”

Patty barked once.

After a single potty break in Cullman, they rolled into Birmingham on I-65 close to midnight. They exited onto U.S. Highway 31. Carol growled, “Shit, I’ll be glad when they get this fucking interstate finished!”

“Yeah, but at least 31 will be a piece of cake at this time of night. We’ll be in Montgomery in less than two hours.”

“That’s right, Baby!”

“Then, next stop Gulf Fucking Shores!”

“Redneck Riviera, here we come, by Gawd!”

They picked I-65 back up just north of the Alabama capital city. Therese sheepishly grinned, “Carol, I’m hungry.”

“Therese Belivet, you have a goddamned tapeworm.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to get fat spending my life with you.”

“No way, Aird! I’ll work it off of you.”

“Ooo-wee! Talk dirty to me, Girl!”

“You mean something like the way I’m going to fuck you on the beach at night?”

“Um-hmm.”

“Or, how I’m going to make you come so hard, the U. S. Geological Service will have to send out an earthquake alert?”

“Okay.”

“Or, how your pussy quivers when I kiss you behind your left ear?”

“It’s always been the more sensitive of the two sides.”

“Do tell! Hey, Lady, you’re weaving a little.”

“Sorry, hey, there’s a 24-hour truck stop on that sign, but I don’t know about that one.”

“I do. It’s not pretty, but it’s clean, and they make these cat head biscuits that … well, can a food be described as orgasmic?”

“That sounds like what I need after your mind fucking me.”

No one else, not even a trucker, was in the truck stop’s diner. A well-coiffured waitress aged somewhere between forty and sixty stepped to the bar. “You ladies could have sat at a table.”

Carol smiled, “We wanted to save you some steps. Both of us have waited tables in our time, Nancy.” Carol had noted the waitress’s nametag.

“Well, thank you, and welcome to Roy’s.”

She started to hand them menus, but Therese asked, “Do you still have those giant biscuits?”

“We do, darlin’. Walt just made a fresh batch for the early risers.”

Carol and Therese glanced about the room.

“Oh, don’t you fret, gals. They’ll be rolling in here about the time y’all head out. But, in the meantime, enjoy the peace and quiet.”

“How about two #1 Breakfasts?” asked Therese.

“Sure thing, honey. Wait a minute. I remember that eye jewelry. Dang, woman, you’ve grown up. You used to come in here with that bunch of punk rocker kids from Birmingham.”

A bit apprehensively, Therese said, “Yes, Ma’am, I did.”

“Y’all were fun … made me feel young again.”

“Thanks, Nancy. You always treated us super nice; that wasn’t usually the case for us.”

“As I recall, you have a cool-sounding name. It’s unusual.”

“Therese.”

“Oh, yeah … ‘Therese’ … I love that.”

Carol chuckled. Therese blushed and poked Carol’s arm. Nancy, this is my friend, Carol.”

“Nice to meet you, Carol.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Nancy.”

“Do y’all live in Birmingham?”

“No, we have driven down from Sally.”

Therese interjected, “We’re going to Gulf Shores.”

“Sun in the fun! Next week’s forecast down on the coast sounds great. Y’all ought to have a big-time!”

“That’s our plan.”

“How would y’all like your eggs?”

Carol answered, “Soft-scrambled.”

Therese chimed, “Over easy.”

“Grits or hash browns?”

In one voice, they replied, “Grits.”

“I hear ya. Let me get this over to Mr. Walt. Coffee, ladies?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back with your coffee. By the way, a man came today and put some new stuff on the jukebox.”

Therese took the wheel after they bid goodbye to Nancy and Walt. They pulled out onto I-65 South and slipped through a sleeping Montgomery, Alabama. Carol dozed in the passenger seat, just as Therese had earlier. After Therese blew by the Fort Deposit, Greenville, and Evergreen exits, the sun rose. Carol awoke and screwed the lid off the thermos that Nancy had carefully filled with her delicious coffee and a goodly dose of half & half.

“I liked that, Nancy.”

“Me, too. Can you believe she remembered me and almost remembered my name?”

“I can. Your one of a kind, Darling.”

“She’s like you, Carol.”

“Like me?”

“That’s right. She is, uh, not judgmental. Carol, I still can’t believe how you take me for who I am. Sure, I realize how I’ve changed since being with you, but it’s all because I have wanted to make those changes. You never pushed me. You’ve just enabled me. I love you, Carol.”

Carol did not respond. Therese looked over and saw that Carol had turned to look out her window. Her back was to Therese. Carol held a handful of Kleenexes to her face, and her shoulders were shaking as she cried.

“Carol, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be all right. You melt my heart, Therese. I love you, too.”

Therese reached over and gently rubbed Carol’s shoulder.

Boohooed out, Carol turned and smiled at Therese. “I’m glad we didn’t do makeup.”

“I know, and you’ve got such natural color at the moment.”

Carol, puffy and red, pouted, “Hilarious, smarty pants.”

Therese chuckled.

Carol took the driver's seat back after they exited the interstate just north of Bay Minette. They bought gasoline and orange juice at the C-store. The little towns came and went as they continued due south: Loxley, Summerdale, and Foley. They turned the A/C off and rolled down the windows at this point. That magical smell of the sea began to inundate the cab. They smiled at one another. Therese slapped her thighs like a snare drummer then screamed with joy. Carol’s heart soared.

“Abby said there is a new Kroger’s of the north side of Gulf Shores; let’s stop there and stock up so we won’t have to fool with it later. What’s our food budget, Sweetie?”

“Five hundred for the nine days. Don’t you think we can do $200 on the groceries today? It will give us a good base for lunches, snacks, Cokes, OJ, beer, and wine.”

“Absolutely. We can split the breakfasts between donuts or sweet rolls in the room and darting down to the Lodge’s breakfast buffet.”

“What nights does that brochure say the seafood buffet is on?”

“Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.”

“All weekend. God, I hope the Lodge’s buffets are as good as Abby said they are.”

“And when we get sick of seafood, we can go to Wolf’s Bay for steaks.”

“Sick of seafood?”

“Well, maybe?”

“Honey, you have not seen Carol Aird when faced with all you can eat shellfish.”

Therese laughed, “I stand warned.”

“No, really. A steak would be lovely one or two nights.”

“When was the last time you were down here, Carol?”

“Harge, Rindy, and I came in …” Carol’s hands went white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

Therese cringed, _Shit! Why did I ask that? I should have known._ “Carol, I’m sorry. That was—”

“It’s fine, Therese.” Carol was thankful for the red light. She stared into the white-hot horizon and took several deep breaths. “I can’t let that tragedy rule my life. I must deal with it, or I might as well be dead myself.”

 _Talk to her about them, Rez. Positive … upbeat._ “What kind of fun things did the three of you do when you were here?”

“Well, we came down from St. Louis in 78. We had to see what all the furor was about from our old UA buddies. One of them had a condo and let us stay there at half the usual rate for four days. Rindy loved the beach and the pool. We had to watch for sunburn, though. Geez, those sugar beaches are blinding.”

“You are right about that. Sunscreen is on my grocery list.”

Carol smiled at Therese, “Vital. Especially with our two lily-white asses.”

“Would Rindy eat seafood?”

Carol chuckled, “Some, but she was only four, everything had a hard time competing with french-fries. I must say, though; if I peeled a boiled shrimp for her, she loved dipping it in cocktail sauce and munching it up.”

“Harge?”

“What? Oh, did Harge like seafood?”

Therese nodded, then smiled because Carol already had the sparkle in her eye she gets when she is about to share something amusing.

“Harge liked to pig out on seafood about once a year. Yep, one and done.” She got a faraway look in her eye. Therese let Carol enjoy the memory. “He would eat so much! Damn, it would almost make him sick.”

“Do you like all of it … all of the different shellfish?”

“Yes.”

“Even those gross oysters on the half shell?”

“What? Gross? Have you tried them?”

“Hell, no. They look disgusting … all slimy. Throw-up!”

“Well, we’re going to fix that.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“No, I insist. I can’t have my partner not loving raw oysters.”

They drove a little further and began to pass the tackily fantastic tourist shops. Just the sight of them made the couple giggle.

“Thank you, Therese.”

Therese knew what she meant but asked anyway, “For what?”

“You know. What you did back there. Have I told you I love you?”

“Not in the last five minutes.”

“Well then, I love you.”

They were at another stoplight. Therese leaned over and kissed Carol’s cheek. A couple in the car next to them looked askance. Therese hollered, “Get over it! She’s my girlfriend. It’s 1984!”

Carol tilted her head back, laughing. Therese continued to stare the homophobes down. Carol aggressively pressed the accelerator as soon as the light changed. “Therese, you’re going to get us into a fight.”

“Bring it on, motherfuckers!”

Carol mocked, “Yeah, bring it on, motherfuckers!”

“There ya go, Lady. We ain’t taking shit off of any self-righteous old birds like that.”

Therese was really fired up. Carol stayed quiet to let her calm down. After a couple of minutes she said, “This part of the drive takes forever.”

Therese murmured, “Yep. It’s because we’ve been driving for so long, and the destination is close.”

Carol cringed now. _She needs a distraction._ Therese, where did you and your street family stay when y’all came down? When was your last trip down here?

Begrudgingly, Therese grumbled, “We pooled our pennies and got two cheap ass rooms back in Foley. I didn’t see that crummy motel just now when we came through there. They must have torn that roach motel down.”

 _Oh, fuck._ “Would you drive down to the public beach?”

“Yep. It was okay. We’d pack all out shit in Jimmy’s grandpa’s crap-ass van, drive down to the beach early in the morning, and then spend the whole fucking day at the beach. We got burned like hell but were either too high or drunk to give a shit.”

“You must have been as cute as a button. How did you keep the guys off of you?”

“Was?”

“Sorry.”

“I’m teasing. I know what you mean … a sweet, young, punk-pink-meaty. My bunch understood and loved me. There was no problem there, but it got rough when we mingled with larger groups. There was one other dyke in the family. We worked out this deal … kind of like designated drivers. One of us always stayed functionally sober. She would watch out for the other one. It worked. I never got date-raped, nor did she. We had some good times with coed femmes, though.” Therese sighed.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, I’ll stop there. Hey, you know I think our timing to go monogamous is fortuitous.”

Carol chuckled, “Why’s that.”

“I’ve been reading about that AIDS shit in the big cities.”

“You have a point, Therese. It sounds horrid. Gay men seem very vulnerable.”

“Everybody is that fucks around or gets blood transfusions.”

“You HAVE been reading up on this.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m so glad I got my gorgeous snuggle, babe.”

They spontaneously grasped hands.

“Hey, Carol, there’s the Kroger’s!”

“Good eye, Belivet.”

After groceries were done, they decided to drive to the Gulf State Park Lodge to make sure they could still check-in at noon. At the desk, a cute clerk greeted them. “Hello, ladies! May I help you?”

“My name is Carol Aird, and this is Therese Belivet. We have a room reservation from today until Sunday week and wanted to verify that a noon check-in is still possible.”

“It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Betsy Doss; I work days this week. Let me check on this for you.”

As Betsy clicked and thumbed at her desk, Therese and Carol made horny-eyes at each other.

“Here you are. Hey, this is unusual, but A4 was vacated early yesterday due to some family emergency. It was serviced yesterday. Would you like to check in now? There would be no extra charge.”

“That would be spectacular, Betsy.”

The Lodge’s 26 four-room units ran for over a mile along the beach from the State Wildlife Preservation Area's western boundary. The administrative, meeting rooms, lounge, and restaurant were in the main lodge building in the middle with 13 units on each side. The A unit was on the far eastern end. Carol and Therese had requested it after studying the brochure back in Sally. They wanted to be near the starkly beautiful Preserve, and there would be fewer beach roamers that far away from the main building.

Carol and Therese thanked Betsy, got their keys, and headed to their room. 4A was on the right or western side of the second floor. The entrance faced the parking area and the road, while the balcony and sliding glass doors faced the Gulf of Mexico.

They were sleep-deprived and headachy, but an adrenaline rush got them unloaded and unpacked in about a half-hour. Betsy had told them that the maids always turned the AC setting up so as not to waste electricity on empty rooms. She had cautioned, “It may seem a little stuffy; just crank the temp down, and it’ll be too cold in no time. You may have to play with it the first day until you find your sweet spot.” Carol and Therese joked about finding each other's "sweet spot" all the way to the Bronco.

Carol turned the thermostat down, and the system was soon humming. Therese loaded the room’s tiny fridge with Cokes, beers, and wine coolers. It was 9:30. They split a bag of Doritos, and each drank a Dos Equis. Almost telepathically, the two lovers stripped to their panties and crawled into the covers of the queen size bed nearest the ocean. The other bed was piled high with beach bags and nonperishable foods. Therese snuggled her ass tight against Carol’s tummy so that Carol could wrap her long arms around her. They were asleep in minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/2ma2Lsg)


	25. Other Business

As promised, Armansky’s brother Fred called on Saturday afternoon at two p.m. from the federal penitentiary. Armansky answered, “Hello.”

“Drag?”

“Yes. How are you, Fred?”

“As well as can be expected, I guess. And you?”

“I’m good. I caught Mike’s ballgame last night.”

“That’s great, Drag. How did he fare?”

“He did very well. It was a double-header. Sally lost the first game but won the second game with no small help from Mike.”

“Really? Tell me!”

“He came to bat in the bottom of the sixth with two outs and runners at first and second. Mike was facing a 3-2 count. He hit a screamer deep between the left and center fielders; it cleared the fence. We won 8 to 3.”

“A three-run homer … under stress. I’m so proud of that boy.”

“I told him that very thing after the game.”

“Thank you, Drag. How are Francis and the girls doing?”

“They are fine. I told them that I would be talking to you today; they send their love.”

“Please tell them I miss them and love them.”

“Of course. Hey, Brother, only five months to the day left. How about that?”

“Friday, September 14th, will not be here fast enough.”

Fred Armansky had served nineteen months of his two-year sentence for insider trading. It was stupid, and he knew it. He pled guilty. Armansky had been livid at the time, but he was proud of how his younger brother took his medicine. Armansky and his other siblings vowed to take good care of Fred’s family while Fred served his time.

“Drag, how is my dog?”

Armansky was silent for a moment. He remembered the proper coded response. “Rusty didn’t make it.”

“That’s sad.”

“Yes, but he’s in a better place now.”

“I guess so; he was old and in pain.” 

Armansky swallowed hard then cleared his throat. “Are you sure you are okay, Fred?”

“I am.”

“Can we send you anything?”

“Just some books and smokes.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks.” Fred paused a few seconds, then continued, “Drag, I appreciate what you’re doing for my family and me. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“You don’t owe me a thing, little brother. Now, I must go. You, stay safe and knock out this last stretch.”

“I will. Bye-bye, Drag.”

“Goodbye, Fred.”

Armansky went out to finish mowing his yard. His neighbors thought it odd that their well-heeled neighbor did not employ a lawn care service. Armansky found the task therapeutic. As he swept the perimeter with his Cub Cadet, he smiled at the thought of the nefarious Vanger’s demise. He did not know how Fred pulled it off, and he didn’t care. It was done. 

*****

Wild Boy caught the Channel 6 evening news from his Birmingham motel room. He sat up on the edge of his bed to concentrate on the TV screen. The anchor reported, “A prominent North Alabama businessman was found dead in his cell this morning at the U. S. Penitentiary in Atlanta. He was serving life on multiple charges, including narcotics trafficking and conspiracy to commit murder. Prison authorities state that more details of his death are being held pending further investigation.”

The hitman glanced at the freshly cleaned Marlin Camp Carbine on his bed. He didn’t even consider not completing his contract. His professional honor was at stake. He shook his head bewilderedly and murmured, “Wild Boy, you never performed a hit for a dead man before, but a deal is a deal.”

Vanger’s contacts in Sally had told him that the “two lesbians” had made reservations for the week at the Alabama Gulf State Park Lodge. Wild Boy would drive down the next day and start reconnoitering. He thought Armansky would be the harder target and felt that kill would take more planning and patience. Wild Boy considered the women low-hanging fruit.

*****

On Sunday morning, Plague sat in Armansky’s “other car” across from the Birmingham Motel 6. He was almost embarrassed to travel in the dorky, pale green, 1979 Chevrolet Impala, but Armansky had insisted Plague take the sedan. His boss considered it more reliable and far less conspicuous than Safari Sam.

This “Wild Boy” character was a ghost. Armansky and Plague would know nothing about this killer save for Fred Armansky’s network. Two weeks earlier, Fred’s friend in the prison mailroom steamed open a letter sent by Martin Vanger to AOD Enterprises, P.O. Box 9998, Iuka, Mississippi. The well-compensated inmate xeroxed the letter before resealing it and sending it on to Wild Bill. He mailed the copy to Armansky.

Plague never thought of himself as a killer, and Armansky did not originally intend for his tech guy to perform such an act. Plague was tasked to go to Iuka, stake out the subject post office, identify the hitman, and start the tail. Armansky had some good ol’ boys of his own for wet work. Plague insisted on dealing with the killer-for-hire. Armansky resisted until he listened to Plague’s plan. 

“I want to do this for Therese, Mr. Armansky. Please let me. I owe her my life.”

“Very well, Jonathan. Do it.”

Plague watched Wild Boy back the pickup out of his parking place and drove to the motel’s office. “Gotta get that receipt for taxes, huh, asshole?”

Wild Boy exited the parking lot and turned onto Old Bessemer Road. Plague followed cautiously. The truck turned twice then took the entrance ramp onto 31 South. The Sunday traffic was light, and the truck accelerated to 65 mph. Plague watched anxiously from a quarter mile back as his subject started the downward slope off of Iron Mountain with its considerable curve. The truck accelerated into the curve. He could tell that Wild Boy was fighting to hold the curve. With no brakes, the killer never had a chance.

Wild Boy’s pickup truck glanced off the guardrail then ricocheted back into traffic, where a racing semi punched it in the left front fender. Wild Boy overcompensated and drove back into the guardrail. Plague braked as the truck began to flip and roll. He slipped to the inside lane and eased by the wreckage on the far side of the road. Wild Boy had been thrown from the vehicle. A guardrail’s post impaled his body. For the first time, Thomas “Wild Boy” Slaughter failed a client.

Plague took the first exit, weaved back through Birmingham, and picked up I-65 North at Gardendale. He called Armansky from a payphone in Cullman.


	26. Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/YlVkyah)   
> 
> 
> Hi folks, 
> 
> You might want to have your Kleenexes handy. This chapter had me reaching for the box. AND I wrote it!
> 
> Danny

Carol stirred at nine on Sunday morning. She was not the least bit hungry, but she was dying for coffee. The room’s only flaw was its tiny coffee maker. Carol pulled on shorts and a sweatshirt then searched for her sneakers. They were soon located and slipped on, then she grabbed her keys and wallet. Carol eased the door open as quietly as possible, locked her sleeping angel securely in, and drove to a nearby 7-Eleven. She returned twenty minutes later with two “Giant” cups of coffee and Sunday’s edition of the _Mobile Register_. Carol placed one coffee on the nightstand next to her zonked partner and carried the other out onto their balcony. The temperature was a lovely 61° with just enough scattered clouds and breeze _to make things interesting_.

Carol propped her feet on the little balcony table and leaned back to enjoy her creamy caffeine fix. After drinking a third of the cup, she perused the paper. A short article in the lower right-hand corner grabbed her attention. Martin Vanger was dead. Carol debated on whether or not to show Therese the paper. She considered leaving the room for a moment to toss the article in their building’s outside trashcan. Carol decided that was wrong. She had brought out a beach towel in case she got chilly. She used it to cover the paper on the space beneath her chair.

Carol tried to clear her mind of the traumatic memories generated by the article. Yesterday was lovely. After they woke up at four in the afternoon, they took their time with showers, chatted on the balcony, and laughed at the comical pelicans that seemed to favor their little corner of paradise.

Starving by six, they walked the quarter-mile to the Lodge’s large restaurant and lined up for the busy seafood buffet. They eased by the salad bar. Therese snickered in a whisper, “Fuck salads! I’m concentrating on the good stuff.”

Carol started with what had to be a pound of boiled shrimp. She barely had room on her plate for some lemons and cocktail sauce. They had the waitress bring them sweet iced tea. Therese was less specialized; her first run included boiled shrimp, fried fantail shrimp, a piece of fried fish, some new potatoes with-jackets-on, and three hush puppies. Carol chuckled about how much fun they had at the meal, especially after she had a dozen raw oysters served at their table.

Therese apprehensively watched as Carol gently and methodically swirled the shellfish with the little accompanying fork. When she was sure they were detached, Carol squeezed a half lemon over the entire dozen gray blobs. Carol lifted one of the shells gingerly between her pointer finger and thumb, then tilted it to slide into her mouth. After a couple of chews, she swallowed.

Therese proclaimed, "Oh, what the hell!" After a couple, she declared, "I guess it's an acquired taste." Carol and several surrounding patrons laughed. 

Later, they made a second pass, piling fresh plates with crab legs, deviled crabs, fried scallops, and some deliciously-ugly, red crawdads. Carol insisted on more boiled shrimp on a third trip to the buffet, but the dessert bar beckoned Therese with its blackberry cobbler and ice cream.

They shuffled away with their full bellies at half-past seven. Carol suggested they carry their sandals and walk along the beach with their toes in the surf. There was enough light to study the day’s sandcastles. School was still in session, so the castles were the work of fastidious adults. They debated over which was the best.

Nearing their dwelling, they held hands and traded kisses. In the room, they opened the sliding balcony door but left the screen closed. The breeze was intoxicating. They put on their jammie-shorts and tee shirts, then crawled into bed and cuddled. They talked and smooched for hours. Carol was not sure how late it was when sleep took them.

Carol heard Therese sigh. She looked over her shoulder to find her lover with her head propped up on her palm. Therese sleepily asked, “We’re in heaven, right?”

“Close to it, dear … Gulf Shores.”

Therese gasped after spotting the coffee standing by her bed. “What the fuck, Lady? You’ve already been out!”

“Mm-hmm, I hope yours is at least still warm.”

Therese hopped out of bed and darted to the restroom. She soon returned to join Carol with a washed face and brushed hair. She grabbed her coffee on the way.

“I hope it’s not cold.”

Therese sipped it, grinned, and then took a long drink. “It’s almost hot. I like coffee that way sometimes; it’s so easy to drink." She took another long swig. "Thank you.”

Carol chuckled and reached for Therese’s hand. “Your welcome, Darling. I didn’t get anything to eat, but we have plenty of breakfasty things on the bed.”

“Ugh, no thanks. That was a lot of food last night.”

“I hear ya, Sweetie.”

“What do you want to do today?”

“The beach, but I’m lovin' this ritecheer for the time being," twanged Carol in her best North Alabamian. 

Therese chuckled, “I hoped you’d say that. It’s really nice.”

They enjoyed another hour on the balcony then packed up their cooler and beach bags. They got all hot and bothered greasing-up each other’s alabaster bodies with sunscreen. Carol had to fight the urge to rip off Therese’s new black bikini and bed her.

Therese felt the same as she marveled at the beauty of her love in a new teal suit. Carol’s blonde hair and blue eyes were eye-popping above the colorful fabric.

Once settled into their beach chairs, Therese noted, “Carol, you did well picking out this spot next to the nature preserve. I’ve only seen a couple of people walk by.”

“Thanks, Sweetheart. I’m glad I have you to share it with me.”

Therese grabbed Carol’s hand and kissed the palm, then nuzzled it. “I love you, Lady.”

“I love you, Therese.”

They drank four beers and two wine coolers by midafternoon. The temperature had climbed into the high seventies, and the sun was glaring. Despite their devotion to the sunscreen, they were both getting a little pink. The lovers pranced in the surf one more time, then packed up and took it in. They showered the sand off and spent the next three hours releasing several days of pent-up sexual energy. They were glad no one else had checked in to their neighboring rooms; they moaned and screamed with total abandon.

The sexual exercise combined with the beach's fresh air gave them a hell of an appetite by seven. They rinsed the sex off, then dressed in hoodies and pedal pushers for a trip to Lonnie’s Chicken. After returning, Carol was getting a bit nervous that Therese might hear about Vanger’s demise on the radio or TV. Carol fetched the paper, sat Therese down on the bed, and showed her the article. Therese gazed at it for a long time. Carol noted that Therese was reading it over and over.

“Therese, are you okay?”

Therese broke her stare and glanced at Carol. “Sure. He’s dead. That’s good.”

“Well, I—”

“Really, Carol, I’m fine. You could have shown it to me this morning, and I would have been fine with it then, too.”

“But—”

Therese stood, tossed the paper to the foot of the bed, and strode to the balcony. Her hands grasped the railing like eagle’s claws. Carol stepped behind her and put an arm around Therese. Carol was unnerved; she had never felt Therese so rigid.

Therese began to cry convulsively. There was no sound, only violent shaking, and tears. Carol pulled her away from the balcony and pressed her down on the bed. She lay next to her and held her. Therese broke the silence, “Carol … those fucking bastards were going to gang-rape me and kill me. I would have never seen you again! My God. Why are there such terrible creatures like that on this earth?”

Carol did not know what to say. She just stroked her tormented girl and held her tight.

“Carol … some—… sometimes I can’t believe I’m in the present. I feel like they killed me that day, and life is a dream.”

“Oh, no, Darling. Life is not a dream. Remember you beat those guys. You won that fight. They are gone from this world and will never hurt another woman. You saved yourself, and I’m sure others, by ending their despicable lives.”

It was a long night. Carol left the lamp by the bed turned on. Therese did not need darkness at this time. Somewhere around two on Monday morning, Carol saw that her Therese was back. Therese’s soul was back in her glistening green eyes. Therese reached for the lamp’s switch and turned it off. She kissed Carol then snuggled her face into the crook of Carol’s neck. Carol was delighted when she felt Therese’s slow, steady breathing.

Monday and Tuesday were much like Sunday. The women went to a rough and tumble little backwater place for seafood on Tuesday evening. Betsy’s tip was a good one. The shrimp and crabs were dreamy.

On Wednesday morning, it rained then remained cloudy. While enjoying burgers at the Lodge, Therese wondered, “Carol, I want to go look around that old fort.”

“Fort Morgan?”

“Yep. It’s cloudy, and I could use a break from the beach. I don’t know if you’d enjoy something like that; I thought maybe you’d like to go with me. Would you?”

Carol smiled across the table at the coy face with the dimples and beautiful little mouth. “I’d love that. I think we’re dressed for it. You want to go as soon as we finish eating?”

“I do.”

They had fun exploring the Civil War era bastion fort and took the time to watch a scratchy old film at the facility’s museum. As they departed the U. S. Park Service’s well-maintained operation, Therese smiled, “Thank you.”

“Your welcome. Did you really think I wouldn’t enjoy something like that?”

“Well, I don’t know. There are still things I want to know about you … I mean things I want to ask you.”

“Ask me things … please!”

The sun came out late in the afternoon, but they did not feel like sunbathing that late in the day. They donned unbuttoned blouses over their swimsuits for a long walk on the beach. On Monday, they had walked west all the way to the first of the tall condominiums. They headed east this evening. After clearing the Preserve’s frontage, they pressed on for about a mile until they reached the developing township of Orange Beach.

Back in the room, Therese got them beers, and Carol grabbed her cigarettes and lighter. They sat on the balcony drinking and smoking. They propped their legs on the table. Monday and Tuesday's redness had turned a delicious brown. Therese’s heart raced as she watched Carol stare at her legs. Carol wanted Therese badly, but the delay was marvelous torture.

The sunset was beyond words. The heart of it was back and to their right, but they didn’t have to lean out very far to view it. Oranges, reds, and blues painted a masterpiece.

Therese took Carol’s hand and pulled her into the room. She closed the screen then pushed Carol back onto the bed. Carol fell with a throaty laugh. Therese pulled off Carol’s bikini bottom while carol lost the blouse and her bikini top. Therese stood upright and let her shirt fall off her shoulders. She was free of the swimsuit in seconds. They were each mesmerized by their intoxicating tan lines. A mutual moan rolled from their lungs as Therese pressed her nakedness onto Carol’s.

Carol enveloped Therese’s mouth with her own. Yes, Carol took it, that mouth she had wanted since lunchtime, that mouth that spoke such intelligent things, that mouth that stole kisses from her all afternoon. Carol had it now, and she had no intention of letting it go until she was satiated. She rolled them to take the top.

Therese could not keep up with Carol’s aggressive tongue play. Carol had Therese’s crotch soaked in seconds with the kiss from heaven. Then! Therese gasped as Carol took her fingers deep into her “Honey Puss.” Therese was exposed to Carol’s passion. She had no defense, and she didn’t care. After dreamy minutes, Carol pulled her tongue from Therese’s mouth, shifting all of her resources south. Carol paused along the way to mouth Therese’s navel. Therese screamed, “Oh, fuck!”

Carol well knew how sensitive her “Little Dragon’s” belly button was. She only visited it sparingly. Carol felt it was a gift to be opened on special occasions. This was an exceptional occasion. Therese arched uncontrollably as Carol plied the tiny pit. Carol gurgled laughter and glanced up at Therese’s face. The young woman’s eyes burned into hers.

Carol was on fire. Bed-walking firmly on her knees, Carol shifted them to the center of the bed then rolled Therese onto her belly. She lifted Therese to all fours and ran her left arm along Therese’s belly, so her hand could vigorously work the girl’s clit. Simultaneously, Carol hand fucked Therese from behind with her right hand; she ran two fingers into Therese’s vagina while slipping said hand’s thumb into Therese’s tight little bum hole.

Therese came in waves accompanied by the sound of the beach’s throbbing surf. Therese was thrilled when Carol rolled her again and shifted her attention to Therese’s breasts. She shook as Carol nibbled and kissed Laverne while pinching and massaging Shirley. It was Carol’s night. Therese would have to relinquish all control on this night and regroup for another day or night’s counteroffensive on Fort Carol. Veronica and Betty would get theirs, eventually.

Carol opened her eyes on Thursday morning to find her delightful pixie standing by their bedside. This time Therese had the 7-Eleven coffees. Therese chimed, “Happy birthday, sleepyhead.”

“Oh, fucking, no. I don’t want to be thirty-five.”

“C’mon, Aird, the alternative is bleak.”

“Haha, Babe. Thanks for the Jo. Now, how about we not discuss birthdays for the rest of the year.”

“No, fucking way. Get up and go freshen up. I want you looking less the sex fanatic for your gift.”

“Oh, Therese. No, no, no …”

Oh, Carol. Yes, yes, yes …”

Therese pulled her gal from the sack.

Carol surrendered, stood up, and tromped to the bathroom. She glanced back over her shoulder and grinned, “Goddamn, you luck cute! I might have to fuck you some more when I come back out.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. That’s later!”

Carol walked out pensively. She had on nothing but fresh panties and a faded ERA tee shirt. Therese had the desk chair turned away from the desk. “Sit!”

“Whaaat?”

“I mean it! Sit down.”

“Oh, are you giving me a lap dance? All right!”

“You’re fucking incorrigible, Lady.”

“I just love you, Honey Puss, that’s all.”

“CAROL!”

“Fine! Okay, I’ll behave.” Carol assumed a prim and proper pose like a schoolgirl waiting to see the new principal.

“That’s better.”

Therese reached in her satchel and pulled out an elegantly wrapped, small, slim box. It was emerald green with a bow of a shade darker.

“Oh, you were serious.”

“Hell, yeah, I was serious. Open it!”

Carol smiled demurely and searched for the best spot to insert her perfectly feminine thumbnail.

Carol noted, “This paper is beautiful, Darling. You shouldn’t have.”

“Thanks, I wrapped it myself.”

“Well, don’t I feel special.” Carol paused as she held the exposed ivory box. She held it up to her ear and shook it.

Therese giggled.

Carol opened the box to expose a glittering charm bracelet. “Oh, Therese! This is gorgeous!” Carol carefully set the wrapping and box on the desk. Then held the bracelet adoringly in her hands.

Therese explained, “The heart is you, the dragon is me, and the doggy is Patty. I know you already have that great charm bracelet with your folks, Rindy, Harge, Abby, your favorite professor, and all those other things. But … well, this one is for our life together.”

“Carol quaked, “What’s this other tiny charm? Oh, dang, Therese, is that a wallet?” Therese nodded as Carol broke down in tears.

Therese stepped to her side and placed her arm around Carol’s shoulder. “Yes, if you hadn’t dropped it that night, we might not have ever met.”

“Thank you,” Carol sobbed.

“You’re welcome, ‘Darling.’”

“Flung out of space!”

“What?

Oh, nothing.”

“Hey, I don’t care what we do today, as long as I spend every second with you, but tonight, you’re mine.”

“Okay.”

“I snuck your garment bag in Bronkie before we left Sally. It’s in the closet. I’ve got both of our new ‘little black dresses.’”

“What?”

“Doll Face, you better get ready to look your best. We’re going back out to Fort Morgan at four and catch the ferry across Mobile Bay.”

“Oh, my!”

“Yep, we’re going to drive up the other side to Mobile. I’ve made our reservations at the Trellis Room. Babe, we’re dining at the Battle House Hotel.”

Later in the morning, they walked down the beach and paid a guy to take them out on his catamaran. It was a total hoot. He was a University of Alabama junior who had taken the spring and summer semesters off to earn enough money for his senior year. He reminded Carol of Harge. Therese perceived Carol’s connection. She searched for trouble in Carol’s eyes. Carol glanced back at her and rolled her eyes. Carol grinned and made the fanning sign at her neck like a smitten schoolgirl. They cackled.

Their skipper looked back at them and grinned. “All right, ladies. What’s the joke?”

Carol vamped, “Oh, nothing. This is just so exciting, Tim. Can we go faster?”

“Sure! Hold on!”

Carol finished getting ready first that afternoon. The two women took each other’s breath away when Therese exited the bathroom. They had wanted to surprise each other as much as possible.

“Oh, Carol.”

“Oh, Therese. You look good enough to eat.”

“No, I said it was my turn tonight. AND, that’s for later. C’mon, let’s go.”

Carol blurted, “Wait!”

Therese turned back impatiently. “What?”

Carol handed her a petite black cube. “I had this custom made for you. It’s taken forever. I wanted to give it to you on this trip. I think this is just the right time.”

“Well, now I’m scared to open it.”

“Don’t be silly. Please open it.”

Therese carefully opened the jewelry box and smiled at the piercing inside. “Carol! Is that niobium?”

“99.99%, my dear.”

“I love it!”

Carol patted her heart, “Thank God! I’m so relieved. I’m not sure how you would take it. I don’t want to replace your white gold dragon’s tail … you know, I just wanted to compliment it … and you.”

Therese turned and raced to the bathroom mirror. Carol watched as Therese carefully removed her eyebrow piercing. She rinsed it off with alcohol then wrapped it in tissue paper. Carol placed it in the black box for her and put it back in her handbag. “I’ll keep it safe.”

Carol waited anxiously for Therese to emerge.

Therese stepped out, “What do you think?”

Carol’s jaw dropped a bit. She had been pleasantly surprised after she researched and discovered piercings that came in colors and, more importantly, were lightweight, durable, safe, and hypoallergenic. Niobium was the answer to her quest. The New Jersey craftsman was also a skilled and imaginative artist. “I love it, Therese. It’s so … well, you.”

“I love it!” Therese beamed, “Lipstick be damned.” She kissed Carol smack dab on the lips.

“Oh, will have to reapply a half dozen times tonight anyway. Give me another, Sweetheart.”

After the second deeper and more succulent kiss, Carol held up her hand mirror for Therese to take one more look at the piercing, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive, and my old one doesn’t have that cute little wing. And, fuck! It’s black! I can’t believe it!”

They reapplied their lipstick. Then Therese took Carol’s hand. C’mon Lady, let’s go sample ‘the Gulf Coast’s best Northern Italian cuisine.”

“I’m in, Dragon Girl.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

“Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/vMjOikS)  
> Don't you love having talented kids? Thanks, Deno! This image is spot-on!
> 
> Dear Readers, 
> 
> Thank you for joining me in this blending of my favorite literary and film works, _Carol/The Price of Salt_ and _The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo_. This has been a magical experience. Rooney Mara's chameleon-like performances as Lisbeth Salander and Therese Belivet made this work's Therese a delightful subject. Cate Blanchett's Carol Aird persona slipped with surprising ease into Mikael Blomkvist's role.
> 
> I always think each of my Carol (2015) AUs will be my last. But ...
> 
> All the best, 
> 
> Danny Creasy


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